Not Long at All
by FromTheAshMeadow
Summary: Ten years after Sarah's victory over the Labyrinth and its enigmatic Goblin King, something has been brewing. As the first to master the Labyrinth, Sarah has created a bond within the Underground. Not only can she travel into the Labyrinth, but Jareth can travel into the Upperworld. The last thing Sarah wants in her normal life is a meddling, glittering Goblin King on her hands!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Something was different, Jareth could sense it in the air.

It was otherworldly. It had drawn him to this very spot in the middle of the night, in the Upper world, just like how the Labyrinth pulled in its runners. It was a tangible bond, a calling. Apart from this calling was very different from the unpolluted pull the Labyrinth used. This was drenched in _feelings_.

Jareth had never been fond of feelings.

In his owl form, he low and perched lightly on the tree branch which overlooked a bedroom window. Inside many of the inhabitants of the Underground danced and made merry with each other. It seemed that the celebrations where in full swing. The Labyrinth's victor was of course in the centre of attention, and there was little thought for their defeated King. Had it only been an hour in this world that the little champion had defeated the Labyrinth and spurned him. He was sure that many of his people thought he was dead. Indeed, maybe even the girl thought he was dead. He scoffed at the thought, which was a bad idea in owl form was he coughed up some white, sparkling feathers. He would never understand how an insignificant barn owl had become his animal façade. At that the little owl ruffled his feathers slightly and made an almost human huffing sound. Surely, he should have been a lion or something fearsome?

Not that a lion was particularly inconspicuous, and right now he was glad of his owl-form. He watched as that Hogsworth creature began a toast to the defeat of the 'tyrant' King and the victory of the girl! _Really, there is no respect for monarchy these days,_ Jareth thought as he eyed the dwarf, calculating how to bog him sufficiently enough that his ancestors would still smell the stench in their veins. His keen eyes traveled the room until they landed on the long-haired, rosy-checked girl who rejected him. Something tugged inside of him, followed by a sharp pain so unexpected that it almost knocked him off his tree branch. It ripped him through the middle, making his small lungs contract tightly in his chest. He tipped upside-down and clung fast to the bark with his talons. Batting his wings hard, he managed to position himself upright again, but the pain was still there…aching, burning. He could feel his body wanting to change form, pushing out the owl and bringing back the man. But he could not stay in the Upperworld in his original form, he would be trapped. Without thinking of what he was leaving behind, Jareth set off for the Underground, to his chamber in the goblin kingdom and his physicians.

Something had changed. Something terrible.


	2. Where Are We Now?

**_"Once Upon a time..."_**

"_Sarah!"_

Her alarm clock screeched down at her from the bedside table. Sarah Williams, who was snug and cosy in her bed, rolled away from the annoying sound and curled up even further into her duvet. _Damn alarm, _Sarah thought with a groan, _it's always waking me up when I don't actually need to be up! _

It had always been that way with the silly little wind-up alarm clock. She had had it ever since she was a girl and still living at her Dad's house and even though it as pretty useless at its intended job, she never seemed to have the heart to throw it away. Something inside of her liked to hoard things with special memories. This particular clock, she remembered, had been given to her by her mother _before_ she went out to become a world-wide, famous Shakespearian actress. It was her last tangible memory of the brown haired, almond eyed woman who had begun to slowly fade from Sarah's living memory.

"_SARAH!" _

She opened her grit filled, sleepy eyes weakly as the noise went again. It sounded somewhat richer than before, but it was just as annoying. She groaned again and murmured something under her breath that pretty much echoed what she was thinking, perhaps with a few more choice words to accompany it. Leisurely, she pulled her arm out of the cosiness of her cocooned bed and reached to slap the thing gently with her hand. Only as she reached for it her hand hit the top of her bedside table and not her unforgiving alarm clock. Hard wood met soft flesh and she let out a squeal at the unexpected impact. Quickly, like an injured bird and pulled back and hid in the recesses of her hideaway, nursing her throbbing hand against her chest.

"_My lady Sarah!"_

The voice called again. And Sarah now vaguely awake noted that it wasn't actually her alarm clock waking her but instead a voice. She lifted her head fully out of her duvet and pulled the covers back. _Voices_, she noted, _plural_. From across the room she spied three figures standing on the _inside _of her mirror staring back at her. She also caught sight of her ghastly morning appearance and cringed. She had never been a great sight in the morning, especially with her untameable morning hair.

Sarah spied the three figures again, two small and one very large. "Hoggle…Ludo…Sir Didymus?" The three creatures smiled at her and then Hoggle, ever as impatient, stamped his foot making the mirror shudder slightly, "Sarah, get up!"

Ludo roared in agreement. Sarah stared at them in confusion, "But its Saturday…" she said as she sat up in bed and scratched her head through her tattered hair with a yawn. Sir Didymus shook his bushy head and sighed, "It is _Monday_, my lady. And you are very much late for rehearsal."

With that Sarah sprinted out of bed, tripping over a paper-back book that was sprawled haphazardly on the wooden floor, and slid into her bathroom with an "Oh my god" streaming out of her mouth. She picked up a toothbrush and toothpaste and quickly began brushing. Her three friends appeared in the bathroom mirror and watched her unhelpfully as she rushed around with the toothbrush hanging out of her mouth.

"How late am I?" she asked while brushing her teeth. Toothpaste suds covered the corners of her mouth but she didn't care, she wiped them away with a nearby towel and looked at her friends expectantly.

"Late enough that they'll likely kick you out of the production!" Hoggle said, cantankerous as always.

Sir Didymus tut-tutted and prodded Hoggle in his unhelpful side, and then addressed Sarah, "You are about an hour or so behind schedule, my lady. However, I have sent Ambrosius to the theatre and he has informed me that they too are behind by half an hour! If you hurry you should make it!"

Sarah nodded, thankful for her friend's help, and then proceeded to rush around again – finding any decent clothing that she could wear from her closet. When the three creatures saw that Sarah was rummaging through clothes they respectfully fogged up the mirror, perhaps only to conceal their blushed. There was barely anything to wear in her closet, so throwing on a crumpled David Bowie t-shirt and some old jeans with her converse sneakers, she grabbed her bag and ran towards the bedroom door. Her bag swung violently behind her and with a smack it hit something as she sprinted to the door. It took Sarah only a second to respond before she knew what exactly her satchel had hit.

_NO! _she thought as she back up and surveyed the damage done. She picked up the figure in her hands looking into those all too familiar, mismatched eyes. Quickly, she averted her gaze and searched for breaks. Unscathed.

_Phew._

"Well, you made it through unharmed that time Goblin King, next time you might not be so lucky."She placed the figure back carefully on the dresser, giving it one last look and finally walked out of the bedroom.

Swiftly she moved through her apartment and grabbed everything that she needed: phone, purse, apple for breakfast and car keys. She was almost out of breath when she reached her car, a little banged up, off-green Volkswagen Beetle and jumped into the driver's seat. "You guys still here?" she asked to the air. Suddenly, Ludo, Hoggle and Sir Didymus appeared in the rear-view mirror, "All here Sarah," said Hoggle as he cleaned the inside of the mirror, "Hey, since when have you last cleaned this car?"

Trying to not roll her eyes at Hoggle's question – sometimes she did wonder whether she left the labyrinth not with a new friend but instead a new _father_. "About last week or so. Why, don't you approve, Hoggle?"

He snorted, crossing his stubby arms over his waistcoat and gadget belt, "No I certainly do not. What would your father say about the state of this car if he saw it!?" Hoggle over the years had come to appreciate Sarah's father and his love for old cars such as this. She had had the Beetle, whom she'd happily dubbed Carlos, from when she'd passed her driving test. Carlos had been given to her by her father in order to run errands in, ferry Toby around and of course for her own personal use. It was broken, battered and unclean. But it was certainly loved. Ever since that first drive in the bright Beetle, they had never been separated. Carlos, unlike Hoggle, understood Sarah's busy schedule and also understood that cleaning didn't necessarily fit into that tight schedule.

"I'm sure that he's never going to see it, and therefore will have no opinion of it." Sarah smiled and turned a corner a little bit too fast. Damn, she was late. She checked the little red alarm clock she had stuck to the dashboard and groaned. No doubt by now, Tony was setting up the sound check and the other actors were already rehearsing. She pushed down on the accelerator. What did it matter if she cut some tiny, tiny corners in the process of trying not to get fired?!

Hoggle huffed and both Sir Didymus and Ludo laughed at the dwarf's huff. "Oh cheer up, Hoggle," Sarah said with one of her winning smiles, "It might never happen!"

"It already has," Hoggle murmured unhappily. Sarah was sure that she was decidedly not meant to hear that. With Hoggle's remark Sir Didymus, the most loyal and bravest fox she had ever met, began to whisper frantically at Hoggle.

With her interest piqued, Sarah couldn't help but ask, "What do you mean Hoggle?"

Now it was Sir Didymus' chance to huff and cross his arms over his chest. Ludo stayed suspiciously silent. "Oh, come on guys," Sarah said, "I promise not to tell!" Again, Sir Didymus huffed and Hoggle scowled at his shoes. It was Ludo who finally gave in. He looked at Sarah from the mirror and said in is loveable gruff voice, "King sad."

At the mention of the Goblin King, Sarah froze slightly but kept her eyes trained on the road. "Oh" was all she could muster as a response. Even though she had kept in contact via mirror and the occasional slumber party with her friends from the Goblin Realm, they had never dared mention their majesty, Jareth the Goblin King. And for good reason, what happened between them was long in the past. It had been ten years since she had heard or thought (well _that_ was a lie) about the Goblin King and his offer. Her friends knew that if he was mentioned, her memories from the Underground would be forever tainted – not that they weren't somewhat tainted in the first place. Wishing away your baby brother to the Goblin King could never be a fond childhood memory for Sarah. Not to mention that, even now, when she dwelled on her decision and the one that brought Toby and her back from the Underground, she was never certain if it was ever truly the _right _choice. Of course, saving her brother had always been the objective of her mission in the Labyrinth. However, every encounter with the enigmatic Goblin King had left Sarah with a niggling doubt of why she had sent Toby there in the first place…

No, she did not keep in with the Underground gossip, just like she suspected the Goblin King didn't keep up to date with tales the Upper world or, for that matter, of Sarah. He probably hated her. Occasionally, one of her Underground friends did have the occasional blunder, like how Sarah's name was to never be mentioned in the realm. Or the fact that the Goblin King had a death warrant placed over her head if she stepped foot into the Underground again…which was disconcerting.

He _definitely_ hated her.

"Oh, why did you go and do that, my good fellow?!" Sir Didymus exclaimed from inside the mirror, his whiskers twitching with annoyance. His tone made Sarah jump slightly, her eyes flashing up to the rear view mirror. Ludo sighed looking down at his big bear paws and then mumbled, "Ludo sad now."

Sir Didymus huffed and crossed his arms over his fury red and white chest, "And so you should be, the Lady Sarah is not meant to be privy to the information of the Goblin Court!" It didn't take long for Sir Didymus to start babbling to himself about disloyalty to the King. He began to partly chastise Ludo for his slip up. All Sarah could hear was the occasional, 'I am a loyal subject' and 'the King gave explicit instructions.' Poor Ludo just played with a small rock in his hands, his eyes downcast.

Sarah was about to jump to Ludo's defence when Didymus' last sentence caught her attention. She looked up at the review mirror and stared wide-eyed, "What?!" The car swerved slightly, the oncoming driver tooted at her, and she pulled the car over. Sod it, if she was late she was late!

Brushing her hair back from her face, Sarah stared at the rear-view mirror. Even with her three friends taking up much of the mirror, she could still see how her cheeks blushed, and how she began to nibble profusely on her lower lip.

"What do you mean, 'the King gave explicit instructions'?" she asked. When had the Goblin King started to control the information stream between the Underground and the Upper world?

Hoggle groaned and jabbed Sir Didymus with his elbow, "Now you've gone and done it, fool!"

"_Fool?" _Sir Didymus exclaimed pulling out his tiny scabbier from its holder, "I am no fool sir, I am a sworn Knight of the King's Guard, first Guardian of the Bridge, a true and faithful servant of the Realm!" Hoggle cowered slightly at the tip of Sir Didymus sword as it pushed up against his large nose. Sarah could see even from her limited view that Hoggle, reflected in the mirror, was not in any position to argue with Didymus. She half expected him to scoff at the fox's small blade, but instead he was still.

Sir Didymus continued with rapture, as Sarah tried to stop her hands from shaking ever so slightly. "Do you dare defy your King in this time of need and turmoil in the kingdom!?" The blade pressed up against Hoggle's purple nose creating a little dent in the already pock-marked skin. Ludo, even with his size and strength, looked utter defenceless to the situation and stood at the other side of the mirror, still holding the small rock in his hands. Keeping her hands out of the sight of her friends, and trying to keep her breathing even, she listened to the unfolding argument. The Goblin Kingdom was in turmoil. That was both interesting and worrying. Before she even had time to contemplate the reason, or how she was involved in this, Hoggle snorted and knocked Sir Didymus' blade away from his nose with his large hands.

"The Kingdom is better off without him!" Hoggle said as he rubbed his sore, reddened nose back and forth with his palm.

Sarah tilted her head slightly and looked at her feuding friends in the mirror. With a furrowed brow Sarah pieced the little argument together, "Jareth has left the Goblin Kingdom?" She jumped at the fact she had actually mentioned him by name. It sounded too familiar on her tongue. She didn't like that.

All friends, even Ludo, looked out towards where Sarah was waiting patiently for their reply. They seemed shocked that she was even there, which was odd as they were the ones appearing her rear-view mirror. It seemed that their argument had made them forgot about Sarah's presence in their quarrel. Not to mention, that she wasn't privy to the realm's business.

Sir Didymus coughed slightly and bowed slightly, "Ah, my lady, the king…well the king…" He faltered.

"Oh, for fairies sake," Hoggle proclaimed, moving Didymus out of the way. "What he means is, Jareth is on a tour of the neighbouring realms." At that Didymus seemed to relax, and even Ludo came out from his corner and re-joined them.

Sarah did not believe them for one second. Already she was calming down, and the sound of mid-morning traffic outside was rather soothing in this situation. The world did not revolve around the Goblin King, or the Underground. Here, it was tangible. Life was prevailing without knowing of the existence of goblins. "Oh, I see." She patted her chin and contemplated, "So, Hoggle, when you said that the Kingdom was better off without him, you meant just for a while, just until the King comes back from his travels?"

Hoggle looked uncertainly around him, and then nodded. "Yes, Sarah."

Sarah inclined her head, "Ah I see, and Sir Didymus?"

"Yes, my lady," Didymus piped up, moving Hoggle out of the way with a harrumph, and bowed to Sarah. Hoggle stumbled a bit and then huffed back, crossing his arms over his chest again.

"When you said that the kingdom was in a time of turmoil, you were referring to Jareth's absence from the kingdom and nothing else, am I correct?" she asked.

He gulped slightly, patting the sword at his side. "Yes, my lady…precisely that. The King is on tour. There has been a slight tax problem within the neighbouring lands." Hoggle nodded profusely in agreement.

Next, she moved to Ludo. "And Ludo, when you said the King was sad…it was because of this tax problem?"

Ludo nodded, "King sad," he said again, in agreement with Hoggle and Sir Didymus.

Sarah raised her eyebrow, "And nothing else at all…?"

"No, my lady, nothing else what so ever! The King is in great spirits and much of his court has gone with him. Indeed, well, perhaps not all of his court…" the fox began to mumble, "I mean, well it was just his advisors, council and…oh what was the last one!" Didymus rubbed his head, contemplating what the third party of Jareth's court had traveled with him. "Ah yes, that was it!" he said proudly, "Yes, his personal military guard, because of the brewing _war_!" He laughed and mumbled something about being part of the King's faithful servant, and guardian, that you needed a good memory.

"War?!" Sarah shouted, unintentionally frightening a pedestrian on the path out of their wits.

Hoggle slapped his forehead.


	3. Under Pressure

_"**I can bear it no longer…"**_

Sarah pulled into the car park of the outdoor amphitheatre in a frantic rush. Forget being late, she was desperately out of time. As she pulled the dog-eared script from the passenger seat and sprinted towards the entrance, her bag caught on her car's side-mirror and was tugged backwards. She fell with a loud thump, rather unladylike, straight onto her backside. Even with the wind knocked out of her, there was no time to waste. Panting and huffing, she wiped the mud off her jeans and bolted into the amphitheatre.

Already she could hear that the rehearsals where in fully swing, and as tech-manager she was in deep-trouble from Tony the director. She could already feel the spit hitting her face even before his reprimand came. Inside the amphitheatre, the actors were already on stage, dressed in the height of Shakespearean fashion. The play was _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, and right now Titania and her husband, Oberon, where fighting it out on stage. Heavy blue and green lights illuminated the actors, giving off an ethereal feeling to accompany their words. Sarah could see the director, Tony, giving her the stink-eye as the closed the door behind her too hard. Keeping her head low she headed for the production tent, where the techies were hard at work.

Hating the fact she was late, Sarah crawled into the tent like an unwanted creature and took her seat side Rasheed, who had his headphones on and was twiddling the sound dials. She mouthed an apology to him. He smiled and nodded with sympathy. Quickly, pushing her back down to the floor, Sarah grabbed the extra set of headphones and began to work. Trying to concentrate on the production before her was futile when her friends had left her with so many questions.

_Damn, silly, Underworld creatures_, she thought half-heartedly. They had made their excuses and poofed out of the mirror before you could say 'The Bog of Eternal Stench.' As soon as the fact about the impending war had slipped out, each one of them went silent, zipping their mouths shut to any of her questions. Part of her wanted to blame them, to shout and scream, but she knew it wasn't really her friend's fault. She also knew what Jareth would do to them if he knew his orders had been disobeyed. Luckily for them, she wasn't in much contact with the Goblin King at all. Her friends lived in the Underground, under the Goblin King's command; it would be they who faced punishment, not her. After they had left she sat in her car contemplating for what seemed like an age. This is the reason why she was late. Too many questions, and worries, were circling around in her head. How would this war affect her friends? Would they be involved? Certainly Sir Didymus would be, he was a Royal Knight. That worried her. She did not like to think of her loving, happy friends being sacrificed on the altar of the Underground. Hoggle seemed disinterested with the prospect of war, and his adversity to the King was sure to spur him against fighting any war for him. Ludo, on the other hand, had skill. The commanding of rocks and the like would surely be advantageous in battle. She wasn't even sure how the Goblin kingdom fought wars. Sure enough, she had seem them in action fighting against her in the Goblin City, but never a full-blown war. That thought truly terrified her.

Sarah frowned and sighed, she was helpless in this matter.

An hour past and the rehearsal was way into Act 3, when Tony had a meltdown. From the production tent, Sarah could see him flaying his arms around wildly as he threw the script at the actors on stage. He pulled at his receding hair with his fat hands and screamed to the high heavens. His shouts were muffled and the only thing you could hear was the command to Helena to "Get of this fucking stage!"

The production tent went silent, everyone turned from their work to watch as Miley, the girl playing Helena, was forced down from the stage by Tony's words. Sarah watched as the girl was taken away, fired, and left the building. Sympathy tugged at her breast. The girl was only young, and sure, she couldn't remember her lines, but that was the idea of a rehearsal: to get it right. Without thinking at all, Sarah stood. Rasheed moved to grab her arm, "What are you going?" he asked with wide eyes.

"He can't treat people like that, he's just a jumped up director, not bloody Shakespeare himself!" With that, she left the production tent and started to make her way down to the director as he started to shout at the other actors.

Seeing his bloated, angry face reflected in the blue stage lights, made her newfound courage falter. Her hands twisted within each other, and her throat clenched. Could she actually feel tears stinging in the back of her eyes? She started to back track. _Bad idea, bad idea._ The sound of movement caused Tony to turn and he looked at her, his piggy eyes squinting down at her.

"What?" he asked, his nostrils flaring.

Sarah stared blankly at the puffy, enraged face in front of her. She stuttered, "Helena…?"

It wasn't exactly the scolding remark she had planned on, but it seems to have an effect. Tony looked her up and down, taking in her muddied jeans with the lift of his eyebrow and laughed, "Ah, I see. You're a techie, huh?" Sarah nodded, Tony sneered, "And…you what, wanna try your hand at Helena's lines?"

Sarah shook her head, "Oh no–"

Tony grabbed her by the arm, "Sure, why not." He moved her to the stairs that were adjacent to the stage. The other actors glared down at her. She didn't want to go on stage, she used to love the acting as a child, but she didn't want to be forced to do it. Her heels dug into the ground as Tony shouted, "Get her in make-up, and find a decent fucking costume to put her in. This is a Shakespearean production people, not a fucking circus. We start again in five." He clapped his hands, twice. A crowd of people descended on the stage. Actors were clothed in big, padded coats and Sarah was dragged unwilling backstage. Make-up and clothing was thrust upon her. Her hair was left down as the design team said they had no time to start on that disaster, and soon she was thrust into the limelight. Her eyes stung from the turquoise and green lighting, she lifted a hand to block the light. Soon a script was thrust into her hands, and she was pushed, stumbling across the stage.

"Let's get this going, I'm fucking freezing in this place." Tony shouted, as he moved his hand in a circular motion and snuggled himself up in his director's chair. "Start from the Lysander's speech in Act 3, scene 2. GO!"

The man, who was presumably playing Lysander stood forward as if he had just stumbled out of an imaginary murky, dark forest. He began reciting his lines so perfectly, that Sarah began to watch instead of listen. When he finished with "Bearing the badge of faith, to them true?" she barely realised that it was her time to talk. She started at him, wide-eyed, truly enjoying the performance. He nodded to her to start speaking, and she simply nodded back, not realising her cue.

Tony huffed loudly. Lysander clicked his fingers and pointed to her mark.

At that Sarah snapped out of her enjoyment, and practically ran to her mark. She held the script to her eyes, the overhead lighting momentarily blinding her, and began to speak.

"You do advance your cunning more and more.  
When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray!  
These vows are Hermia's: will you give her o'er?  
Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh:  
Your vows to her and me, put in two scales,  
Will even weigh, and both as light as tales."

Proud of herself, she smiled brightly and swayed side to side. Lysander spoke again;

"I had no judgement when to her I swore."

He moved closer to her, pleadingly. That line made her jerk for a moment. A soft breeze ruffled the hem of her dress and brought back all too familiar words back into her mind. They pleaded with her, sang to her. _ Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I shall be your slave. _

Shocked at the vivid memory, her hands grew clammy and left fresh stains around the script, smudging the ink. The page began to shake. Uncomprehendingly, she looked around at the bright lights and 'sleeping' actors staring at her with disdain. She was dazed. Any moment now, she was sure she would faint. Why had it been like this ever since? Why did it have to happen now? She had loved acting, loved the idea of inhabiting someone else and becoming engrossed in that character. As a child she had enjoyed strolling in the park, dressed as particular character and reciting famous lines. That was before her small holiday in the Underground. Now, every time she even thought about acting it was almost like reality got in the way. No matter what character she embodied, it was never enough. That line always came into her head, reminding her, taunting her. Fright seized her, confining her under a bright blue stage light.

The other actors groaned, and Tony's reaction didn't even bare thinking about. Lysander stared at her, mouthing something. Squinting at him, watching as his mouth moved up and down. He was miming something to her, but the blue light had her under its grasp. She watched again, and he was pointing desperately to his hand…her hand. She looked down. The script. Her line.

Putting her shaking aside, she breathed slowly. _I can do this_, she thought. Slowly, with trembling lips she recited her line, looking down at the page.

"Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er…"

She had said it so quietly that Tony shouted up at her, "Louder!" Sarah jumped and began reciting the line again. And again Tony shouted, "LOUDER!" He kept repeating over and over again it until something inside Sarah broke. A triggered was set off inside and Sarah shouted out the line with veracity:

"Nor none, in my mind, now _you _give her _o'er_!"

Goblin King. That's what the line reminded her of. That's where the ferocity came from. How dare he give her over when she had pledged to her, give out his heart and soul, and with one tiny (well…perhaps not tiny) rejection leave her so willingly!

Lysander spoke again, drawing Sarah's attention. He turned away from Sarah and moving to the other side of the stage. All she could see however, was a glittering git with a mop of blonde hair standing before her, speaking;

"Demetrius lover her, and he loves not you."

How true! He had never cared, how foolish it was to even think that. To dwell on it for years, a whole decade of what might have been if she had only said _yes_. Something inside Sarah was unfolding, she could feel realization hitting her. Of course, she had been a child! Why would any man, or whatever the Goblin King is, want a child as queen? He had used and befuddled her brain in the Labyrinth, and Sarah still had the battle scars to show it. He had left a permanent mark on an innocent teenager's heart, and left the imprint on the women now. She could practically never look at a man if he didn't have wild hair and glitter sprouting out from his fingertips. Suddenly, Sarah felt a surge of anger that boiled her blood, filling her body at the thought of the Goblin King and his crooked smile. Damn him, and how he used her like a pawn in his Labyrinthine games!

Sarah had not realised another actor 'awakening' on the stage, professing his love for her. Instead, her vision was blurred with undiluted fury. She flung the script to the side, making everyone on stage and Tony jump slightly at the ferocity of it. Pulling away from the cast, and the shadows on the lights, she stood in a pool of spectacular green light and started reciting the only thing she really knew off by heart.

"_Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered,_

_I have fought my way here_

_To the castle beyond the Goblin City,_

_To take back the child that you have stolen,_

_For my will is as strong as yours,_

_And my kingdom is as great._

_You have no power over me."_

With her final word, she called out to the Goblin King, evoking him to her, "Bring the Goblin King to me!"

And then promptly, she fainted.


	4. Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps)

"_**Say your right words…"**_

_Peaches_.

She could smell peaches. Drifting under her nose, the smell was light and inviting. She could almost taste it on the tip of her tongue, feel as its liquid ran down her throat. Succulent and juicy. There was something in the taste, in the smell, that she craved. That she needed. She wanted more. It made her gluttonous. Ravenous.

Sarah could hear the sounds around her, calling out. Something shook her shoulders, making the peachy smell intensify around her. The muffled voices crowding around her. They closed in, suffocating her. No, all she wanted was the peach and its luscious taste. She could feel herself being pulled forwards and then something painful was pulled out of her arm. She tried to cry out but her throat was gritty and sore. The lovely peachy smell that had infiltrated her senses was gone, replaced by some horrible odour. It made her gag and cough.

Blinking rapidly, she turned her head and looked around her blurry surroundings. Dark trees silhouetted the figures around her, the surroundings seemed familiar. A noise drew her attention to the blurred figures around her. Squinting, her head spun and throbbed. The throng of shadowy figures that surrounded her twirled and danced. As she tried to focus, the figures flickered and merged, like flames in a fire. Their shadows turned a mixture of flaming orange and red fur, sprouting long beaks and large round, protruding eyes. _Fireys_.

They giggled and moved erratically around her vision, detaching their head and limbs with glee. "_We can show you a good time!" _they echoed. Their long, pink fingers glowed and lit with flames. She could feel her vision blurring again, the figures morphing again. "_Come back little lady, let's take your head off_!" They giggled again as their voices faded into the void. She could feel a tugging around her head. In vain she tried to bat them away. They had already tried to decapitate her once, but her arms were weak and limp, trying to move them was futile. The persisting tugging continued. She groaned out loud at her discomfort.

Abruptly, the tugging ceased and her head was thumped down on the hard ground. A sudden, cold sensation along her back made her shiver. Sarah could feel the stone and soggy moss under her hands. She gripped it tight in her fist. It was real. She could feel the damp, muddy moss under her fingernails. Feel as the hard rock beneath her grazed her knuckles. Her vision was becoming clearer, however it was still slightly murky, like a window that needed a good washing. Around her the area turned a gloomy grey; strange carved stone walls built up around her, blocking her in. "_Go back while you still can_!" one said, its frowning mouth moving up and down. "_Don't go on!" _another one called. The rock-faces called out to her, warning her of impending doom with their bored, troublesome voices. Something niggled at the back of Sarah's throbbing mind. This place wasn't real. Even if it felt real, it wasn't. Sarah was sure, that in least in the Upperworld, she was unconscious. "_This is not the way_!" another moaned.

No, this _was_ the way. The phoney warnings were telling her so, telling her the exact opposite of where she needed to go. Sarah needed to break the dream world, just like she did last time in the ballroom. Shame, she didn't have a chair handy.

With her body still on the ground, Sarah began push her mind away from the false reality she had found herself in. She knew from previous experience that knowing it was fake was the first step. Next, she needed something to motivate her body back into her own world. Various thoughts flittered out of her mind, back and forth, as she tried to cling to a tangible memory. The false alarms moaned louder as the memories flooded her mind. She thought of her friends in the Underground, but the false alarms began to fade. Sarah was going the wrong way. Scrunching up her face, her mind went into over-drive until she landed on one blonde, scruffy gap-toothed boy. _Toby. _

The memory swamped her mind, the palpable videotape of Toby losing his first tooth played on loop in her mind's eye. She smiled weakly as she remembered Toby running into the kitchen with his newly freed tooth, grinning gleefully as he showed it around the breakfast table. The false alarms began up again, their bored voices echoing around in her head. But she kept focused. Another one flooded in, washing out the five-year-old boy and replacing him with the seven-year-old, adventurous dirt-ridden boy playing the in garden. He was digging in the garden, Irene's garden trowel in one chubby hand, pretending he was Indiana Jones. She remembered how he had become quickly obsessed with adventurous archaeologist and had dug up Irene's tulips that summer. With each smile Toby gave her, she could feel her body being propelled outwards. No chair was necessary, Toby was the kick she needed. Grasping onto another memory, she watched as nine-year-old Toby cried. Noticed how the little black suit he wore was too big for him, that the sleeves covered his hands. How he stood there, with her arms around him, as the coffin descended into the ground.

That was the jolt she needed. She wanted to get the back to Toby. Her baby brother, her little trooper. The stone walls faded around her, the blackness gave away to bright lights. Stage lights. Soon, curious faces descended on her.

A blurry face appeared in front of her. "False alarm guys!" There was a mutual disappointed cry around her. "She's awake!" the voice said to no one in particular. Next to her, she could see a pair of legs draped in a dark green material. The uniform was familiar, medical, but she couldn't place it. Someone helped her sit up and placed a reassuring arm around her shoulders. Rasheed smiled down at her, holding her in place. The cast and crew stared down at her, watching her with great interest to see if anything else would happen. They moved back and forth, fuzzy. Most of the gathered crowd just stared blankly at her, uncaring, to see if anything more dramatic was to come. Some of them however whispered between themselves, obviously thinking that Sarah was too dazed to hear. "She's got to be mad," one of them said. Another confirmed it, bragging, "She was babbling on about goblins, peaches and kings. I heard it, I was at the front!" The whispering continued as Rasheed began to pat down Sarah's face, checking for fever as he was the on-sight first aider in the crew. "I always thought she was a bit _challenged_, odd you know?" It continued, "I mean who wears _David Bowie_ tops every day of the week…?"

That was is it, she couldn't listen to anymore.

Sarah began to curl her legs up until she was perched on her knees. Rasheed came forward and gave her his arm to lean on. "Thanks, Rasheed," she said as he helped her up and braced her with the side of his body. Everything was still wobbly. She was sure her knees would give out at any second. She clung to Rasheed and his shirt collar, afraid to let go unless she fell over. He appeared uncomfortable, and he seemed to be making a soft choking noise, but let her continue anyway.

"Where did the paramedic go?" he asked, searching the dispersing crowd began to walk away from the disappointing spectacle.

Sarah touched her sore head with her free hand, vaguely listening to Rasheed even with the blood pounding in her head. Jeesh, this felt like more of a peach-induced hangover than actual medical emergency, why did they call a paramedic? "What paramedic? I don't see one," she said, not really bothering to look around. There was still a trickle of curious onlookers.

"He was here a minute ago." He looked around again, "He gave you some funky looking juice. I thought it had been medicine but it only –"

Suddenly, he was cut off by a speckled grey haired man and a young, gap-toothed boy in a fedora running towards them. "Sarah, honey are you okay?" the man shouted as he came galloping towards her and Rasheed. _Which he shouldn't be doing_, Sarah thought, _he has a heart-condition!_

She groaned, which only aggravated her throbbing head, "You called my Dad?" she asked Rasheed with a groan.

Rasheed shrugged and grinned, "He was the only emergency contact you had listed."

They stormed towards her, their worried expressions clear on their faces. "Dad, you didn't really need to come," Sarah said as her father hugged her abruptly, crushing Rasheed's arm rather uncomfortably between them. Toby looked on with ruddy cheeks, puffed out from the sprint, and bright blue, anxious eyes. She smiled down at him and winked. He smiled back, relieved.

Her father let go after she groaned at the pounding sensation in her skull with an apology on his tongue, "Sorry honey, I just panicked. When your friend called me saying that you had collapsed, that the ambulance was on its way, I just thought that something –"

She looked into her father's puffy eyes and realised what he must have thought. Just like Irene. "No nothing like that, don't worry. I'm not going anywhere just yet." She smiled, and hugged her father again.

Rasheed looked on, and coughed awkwardly. "I'll just go get you some ice for your head," he said. Sarah nodded, and watched as her friend disappeared back towards the production tent.

"Your head?" her father asked, reverting back to panic. It was then that Toby ran towards her and hugged Sarah around her waist. She frowned at her father, and titled her head towards Toby. _Not in front of Toby_, she thought. Her father understood straight away and asked smoothly, "What happened to your head, Sarah?" It sounded put on, but she didn't mind just as long as it didn't upset Toby.

She hugged Toby with her free arm, "I'm not too sure, I think I just fainted. Probably low blood sugar or something." She lied. She didn't exactly know what had happened, but she was damn sure it had something to so with the Goblin King himself. Evoking him, she had known it was a bad idea. In all truthfulness she didn't exactly know why she had tried it. _Tried_, being the operative word. It obviously hadn't worked, he wasn't here sprouting out glitter left, right and centre, was he? But something had happened instead. It wasn't like she had entered back into the Labyrinth. No, it was something different. It was like the Underground had come to her, partially at least. Playing all of her experiences around in her mind. Something told her that this wasn't the last time it would happen. Ever since she had come back from the Underground, Sarah had never felt completely whole. Something had been taken in return for her taking Toby back, she just wasn't sure what that was. Yet.

Toby let go of her waist as her father, eyeing something over her shoulder, excused himself with a touch of her cheek. She watched as he walked over towards Tony, who was surrounded by murmuring actors and was guzzling down his fresh cup of coffee. Trying not to internally grimace, she watched as her father made his presence known and began to speak to (perhaps, scold was a better word for it) Tony, which she was sure Tony would not enjoy for one second. Her father had always been a man full of purpose, she could see him now waggling his hand in Tony's bloated face, no doubt calling him out on lack of a good health and safety system. It was only then that she realised what, or who, her father was dressed as. Indiana Jones. Just like Toby. _No doubt another one of their film marathons_, she thought with a sigh. There was no way in which she could explain this now. He looked so out-of-place next to the Shakespearean, codpiece and corseted costumes. The fake, plastic whip hung low from his belt and although he was missing the hat, his costume matched the archaeologist's item for item. There was no hope. She was sure to be fired.

"You sure you're okay, Sarah?" Toby asked, drawing her attention back. Sarah grinned and pulled the fedora off his head and placed it on her own. It was too small for her and she knew it looked ridiculous balancing precariously on her head. However, she knew it would make Toby laugh, so she exaggerated the difficulty of keeping it on her head. Soon he began to laugh, probably at her foolishness and began snatching to get the hat back. He caught it when Sarah purposely tipped it off her head, "See, if I was really bad could I have made you laugh?" She winked.

He shrugged back, playing with the hat in his hands, "I guess not." She grabbed it off him and placed it back on his head, tipping it over his eyes.

Rasheed was walking back over by then. He jogged slightly as he reached them, probably seeing Sarah wobble somewhat as the amphitheatre around her began to tilt. He handed her the blue ice pack and she placed it at the back of her head. "Let me see," he said, as he removed the ice pack and touched the soft bump that had formed there. She winced. "You'll live, it's not that bad. Just keep the ice on it and it should be fine by tomorrow, you're not concussed." he said, contemplating. "It was definitely strange the way you went down," he said pushing back his jet-coloured hair back from his face with a frown, "like a brick, and then the wind started up. It was kind of freaky, we couldn't get to you at first. Of course, the actors ran off stage when the lights started to explode." He shook his head. _Wind? The lights exploded?_ Sarah looked back at the stage to see that, in fact, only one light was still shining down on the stage. Plastic and glass covered the stage floor. She was about to ask more when Rasheed carried on, "Do you feel disorientated at all? Woozy?"

Sarah shrugged, "Maybe, a little bit. It's more like the feeling of skipping a meal. Lack of energy, that kind of thing."

Rasheed nodded, "Well I'm no doctor, but you seem fine. Maybe some rest and food will be good?" He looked down at Toby who was following the conversation intently. "You'll help your sister, right?" Toby nodded, and pulled the tip of his hat up and down in acknowledgement, "Food and rest, you got it!" Sarah smiled at her little brother. To think she almost gave him up completely to become a goblin!

Something triggered in Sarah's mind. "Rasheed," she said, drawing his attention. He nodded, "you said something about a paramedics, that they gave me something to drink."

"Singular," he said, holding up his index finger. "One paramedic." It seemed Rasheed was fascinated with Indiana Jones as much as Toby, as they both started to discuss the trilogy. Toby handed Rasheed his plastic toy whip and Rasheed looked at it was undiluted fascination. Sarah on the other hand was running over the hallucinations – what else could she call them? – that she'd experienced during her period of apparent unconsciousness.

Sarah urged him on, with the touch of his arm, "So do you know what they gave me?" He didn't hear her the first time, so she winced slightly and clutched the back of her head, even though the pain was barely a dull throb now. Rasheed looked up, and examined the back of her head again.

He answered when she asked him for the third time, "_He _gave you some sort of injection, I didn't really want to interfere but it didn't look particularly right." He took Toby's whip again and Toby gladly gave him the fedora too.

_Peaches_, _damn peaches. _

"What do you mean, 'it didn't look right'?" she asked, unbelieving that he would take the word of just anyone, albeit it in a paramedic's uniform, and allow her to be injected with some unknown substance.

Rasheed stopped playing 'find the ark' with Toby and turned to her. He looked around him, no doubt seeing if any gossiping actors were around, however Sarah's father was still keeping them entertained. "Just between you and me?" he asked. Sarah nodded rapidly. At that, Rasheed gave her a confused look. Oh, yes she was injured. She fake winced and pressed the now watery ice pack closer to her head. Rasheed seemed happy with that. "It glowed, like it was some radioactive substance."

Sarah gaped at his phrasing, "You let a stranger drug me?"

Rasheed snorted, "It wasn't just a stranger; he was a _medically trained_ stranger." _Yeah, sure he was_, Sarah thought…

Rasheed continued, "To be totally honest, I didn't know what to do, Sarah. My training only goes so far. And what happened up there, was not in the text-book." He pointed to the stage again, to the broken glass being swept away and the lights being refitted by the crew. He continued, "If you'd had a heart attack then I could have probably dealt with that." He scratched his head, "Well, maybe. I mean, we called an _ambulance_. Then this guy turned up, knowing what to do, how to move you, and then stuck that thing in your arm. What was I supposed to do, he was the professional!"

Sarah knew what she had to ask, but she was afraid to. If Rasheed confirmed her suspicions, that it wasn't a faithful, shape-shifting goblin (which she had suspected at first), but instead… Oh god, that didn't bear thinking about.

_What have I done?_

Sarah spoke, "What did this paramedic look like, exactly?" Her heart began to involuntarily thumb and dance beneath her breast bone. She suddenly felt light-headed, and she knew it had nothing to with the lump forming under her hairline.

"That's easy!" Rasheed said, "Angular features, strange eyes, and oh yeah, he was sporting some weird-ass hair…"

With that, Sarah had all her suspicions affirmed. It had worked, she had called to him and he had come. He was here, in the Upperworld. In her world. He had followed her call, her demand. He had probably watched as the invocation had knocked her out…and then he had _drugged _her! Trapping her into some Underground filled bubble again. Instead of trying to seduce her, he was trying to imprison her. _Guess he's still not over the rejection and the whole 'You have no power over me' thing_, Sarah thought as she looked around the theatre for any sign of him. As if on cue, Sarah's roaming gaze was forced upwards towards the darkening, dusky sky. That was when she spotted him. There, flying around in circles, seemingly taunting her, was the all too familiar, white feathered shape. His wings spread out in a glorious salute, provoking her, mocking her. _Piece of cake is it, let's see how you deal with this little slice…_

Toby had by then followed her gaze. He pointed upwards, calling out, "Oh cool, a barn owl!"

Ugh. It was time to face the Goblin King.


	5. Slow Burn

"_**Beware, Sarah…"**_

The summoning had come at an inopportune time.

Jareth, with his war counsel gathered around him, had been in a heated peace-negotiation with the Realm of the Fays when the call had reached his ears. It had buzzed around in his ears like an unwanted fly, pulling at his innate instinct to obey the call. He could feel the need to return to his kingdom, then the internal pull calling him to surface in the Upperworld. He ignored it, pushing it back to the Retrieval Department at the Goblin Kingdom. He had no time for collecting would-be goblins from their ungrateful relatives, even if the goblin population was declining. With a flick of his wrist, the buzzing vanished and he focused his attention towards the robed men sitting across from him. There, his goblins could deal with the little babe that had been wished away.

With his focus now centred on his surroundings, he watched as the debate around him roared on. Mismatched eyes observed as the mighty monarchs of the Realm squabble and threaten each other. _This is why there is a war brewing_, Jareth thought, as his long fingers gripping the whip at his side. Impatient, he wacked it against his boot. Once. Twice. With the roll of his eyes, Jareth frowned at the ridiculous sight in front of him. The crowd of stout, richly dressed kings, resilient queens, and snotty ambassadors chattered hastily around the room. Each one of them were sitting in beautifully craved thrones, each one decorated more elaborate and gaudy than the next. Their diplomats and war councils surrounded them, much like his goblins surrounded a fat, greasy chicken. Their otherworldly mercenaries hung about them like maggots on a mouldy turnip. Feeding from them, living off them until they outgrew their masters. Jareth wagered that by the time the war came around, if it indeed came, that half of the royalty here would be dead, beheaded or worse. Quite clearly, they wanted to outdo each other, prove through their superiority and strength by how much gold they could clad on their personal items…and in some cases, even themselves. It was a petty game of size-up. Who had the nicest this, who had the biggest that…

Jareth wanted no part of it. He already knew he had the biggest.

The debate rumbled on between the monarchs; some shouting, some scowling, some even showing complete indifference. In Jareth's case it was boredom, utter boredom. He fidgeted slightly in his chair, his body aching in the process. He moved again, and the pain jolted up his side, aggravating an old wound. He breathed raggedly clutching the arms of the wooden chair for support, or relief, and moved again. The pain ebbed, but the ache remained. Like it always would. With a sigh, he sat back in his engraved, high-backed chair and swung his leg carefully over the side. His long, black boot hit the panel of ornate carvings around the base of the chair with a thud. The ambassador for the Sprite kingdom, his water face gleaming under the torch-light, looked at him with disdain. "Uncouth man," he mumbled and stared straight ahead again. Jareth grinned, sinking lower into his seat. He smacked his whip once against the side of chair, watching with malicious glee as the ambassador squirmed and moved two paces to the left, out of range. _Damn,_ Jareth thought, _just out of reach. _He leaned his head against the back-panel, not caring if it flatting his spiky hair, and started to laugh.

The ambassador from the Centaur realm spoke up, his hooves clicking on the floor as he moved forward, "The Realm had been weakened, threatened by the folly of _one_." His black eyes shifted noticeably towards Jareth. The hall grew quite around him, each monarch observing the seemingly unremorseful Goblin King with anger, tepidity and disdain. Jareth grinned back at them, licking his tongue over a pointy incisor. Some recoiled, others simply turned away. How little they knew of how he too suffered, just like the Realm. The pain in his side flared up again, he ignored it. Feigning ignorance, Jareth conjured a little glass ball in his gloved hand and began staring into its depths, focusing on the only thing that could elevate the constant agony that racked his body. His hands began to tremble as he waited. The image wavered slight and began to focus; brown hair spilled around her shoulders, framing her flushed face. His eyes sort out her familiar figure, taking in every detail he could. Soon, the pain began to ebb again and he sighed, leaning back comfortably in his chair.

_Now! Do it now,_ his mind called to him, _break it!_

Jareth knew he should break the glass orb, banishing her from his mind and from the prying eyes of the council. They would not look on him favourably – if they ever had favoured him – if they caught a glimpse of what, or who, lay inside the glass ball. Ignoring his rational mind, he looked on, caressing the orb with his gloved hands as he did. Inside the orb, she looked confused. Her pink, rosy lips were formed in a round 'O' and her green eyes darted back and forth between the blurry, unimportant figures around her. Jareth didn't know what she was wearing. A brown dress with puffy sleeves and a tight, laced bodice. It was akin to the outfits worn by the fay subjects in the Goblin Kingdom, gaudy in its style. He realised that she must have been at work, in the amphitheatre. However, the last time Jareth had checked, she was working in some forsaken tent, with blinking lights and something she liked to call a 'monitor'. The dark-skinned centaur was speaking again, his gaze landed on the quite obviously bored and unabashed Goblin King every-so-often. Jareth snubbed him, and his vile accusations. He simply stared into the orb, watching as the girl began to move her mouth, reciting something. He winced as she started to stumble awkwardly across the stage. _She's acting_, Jareth realised with a grin. He watched her move, speak, how she clung to the script with unease.

Soon, she fell into her own. She commanded the stage…and it was then when the pain truly seized him. He felt the buzzing of the call invade his senses, the room spun slightly. The orb fell from his gloved hand, smashing against the hard, tiled floor beneath him. A call, insistent and loud, clawed inside of him. Jareth barely realised the ruckus around him shouting for war, shouting for retribution. The Sprite ambassador bellowed throughout the room, "Send the Goblin army to fight!" His watery fist splashing in the air. The Goblin war council roared out in anger.

Jareth didn't pay attention.

Shattering. He felt like he was shattering. Jareth stood, his keen vision blurring and jarring as he did. He held onto his side, trying to keep himself together. His lungs burned. The buzzing in his mind had become persistent, turning from a distant sound and into something audible. He strained to hear it, to make sense of it. Then, without warning he heard _that_ voice…_Bring the Goblin King to me…_

"Sarah?" he asked, his voice a faint, confused whisper.

He could feel it again. The bond was calling him back, back to the Upperworld. Like an unbreakable string attached under his left ribs, he could feel it tugging. It was the tugging that was shattering him, his body going against his stubborn mind. _She_ had called him. It had taken her ten years, but she had finally called him. Talk about making a man wait! _No more lurking in the shadows_, he thought with a grimace. Again, it was the familiar pull he had felt almost ten years ago, the bond with _feelings. _

He hated feelings.

The string tugged again, threatening to undo him. Struggling slightly, Jareth pressed the palm of his hand against his wounds, cursing under his breath as agony sliced through him. Eyeing the room carefully, Jareth stood. In a room full of greedy, vile monarchs, he knew that any sign of weakness would and could be easily exploited. Especially now, when the faults of the Goblin Kingdom had been laid bare in front of all the kingdoms to see. Weakness was not an option. If he had been in their position, things would have been the same. It was not out of character for Jareth to exploit his opponent's weaknesses – sometimes just for fun.

With careful movements, Jareth removed his gloved hand away from the pain. He flexed his fingers slowly, pulling on the glove tightly as he began to move towards the door. He must have stumbled slightly. One of his guardsmen, seeing something in Jareth's spasmodic movements that had alerted him, moved to help. Jareth shoved him away, hard. Knowing Jareth's reputation for kicking goblins, the guard recoiled quickly and moved back into his formation. Gritting his teeth together, Jareth bent for his whip. He slammed it against his boot, angrily. The pain grew, his ribs feeling on the verge of collapse. He needed to leave.

_Damn her! _Jareth thought. He sucked in air through his clenched jaw as another lashing radiated down his body. _Even if it kills me, I'm going to make her pay. _It was his last thought before he gave into the bond and disappeared in a cloud of sliver, glitter filled smoke.

* * *

By the time they pulled up outside of Sarah's flat, the sun was going down and the wind was howling through the buildings. It had picked up around the time they had left the amphitheatre and hadn't ceased. Sarah was pretty sure that phenomena had nothing to do with the natural weather, but something far more magical and, even if she couldn't admit it to herself, slightly sinister. Throughout the drive back, Sarah had kept a keen eye on the darkening sky, watching out for the gliding figure that she knew was following them. She didn't see anything. But if she knew the Goblin King – and his tricks – at all, then it was clear that he would only make himself known when he wished.

Sarah's father had insisted upon helping her inside. She had protested rather too loudly at that, but with the defeated look in his eyes, she relented. "Only five minutes," she had told him. As she climbed the stairs to her floor with Toby and her father close at her heels, she knew that the likelihood of them staying for five minutes was slim. On the drive back her father had offered for her to spend the night in her old room. He had obviously seen something written across Sarah's face which had made him worry. She had point blank refused. It might seem harsh, the way she was treating her father. But Sarah, as always, had her reasons. Firstly, there was no way in hell she was allowing the Goblin King to burst into her old room, like last time. The thought of it brought back uncomfortable memories. Secondly, she didn't know what or which Goblin King she had summoned. Or how emotionally stable he would be. Heaven forbid, her father walking in, seeing a vengeful Jareth looming over her posed to kill... No, she didn't want that. Least of all, she didn't want the Goblin King making a dramatic entrance, like last time.

She needed to be prepared…for whatever he threw at her.

She gulped, thinking how he tried to 'distract' her last time. The words played around in her mind again… _Fear me, love me, and I shall be your slave_. That was certainly _not_ happening again. With shaky hands, she managed to slot her keys into the lock and open the blue front door rather smoothly. Toby rushed past her, heading straight for her TV – and the Xbox she had been forced to install for his sole entertainment. Before she could catch him, worried that the Goblin King would be lurking, he had already raced away, kicking off his muddy shoes as he went. _Definitely not five minutes then_, Sarah thought as she picked up Toby's shoes and arranged then neatly next to the wall. Her father followed close behind, shutting the door. He stopped her with his hand before she could say anything, "I know, only five minutes." He strode past her, taking off his fedora as he went, and sat down next to Toby who was already engrossed in some inter-galactic battle on the screen. Sarah trailed behind them, twisting her head in every direction to see any signs of unwanted movement. She checked the outside too, leaning against the window pane, pushing her face as close as possible to the cold glass to get a clear view of the treeline. No sign. Surely he had followed them, right? With the corridor clear, she moved steadily into the living room and began the same process.

Too absorbed checking underneath the curtains, Sarah hadn't realised that her father had vacated his position on the sofa, and was standing next to her, talking. She jumped as she stood straight, seeing her father's face so close to hers. "Are you alright, honey?" he asked, his tanned, lined face creased with worry.

Sarah brushed her hair behind her ears, "Oh yeah, Dad. I'm totally fine…" she said somewhat distracted. _Maybe he's in the closet…? _

Her father watched, dumbstruck, as his daughter flew about the room opening and shutting closet doors with an exasperated thud, checking under piles of books, under figurines and even crawling on her hands and knees to see under the sofa. "Come on, honey…I think you need your rest," he said as he caught her elbow and pulled her gently to her feet. Sarah began to protest as she was manoeuvred into her bedroom, until she realised that it was probably for the best. Her family needed to be out of the way for this showdown. Taking the spotty flannelled pyjamas out of her father's hand, she proceeded into the bathroom to change.

"Don't forget to brush your teeth!" her father shouted as she walked onto the squishy linoleum floor. She smiled, rather embarrassed by the fact that even at twenty-five she still had to be reminded to brush her teeth at night.

Luckily, the costume department had let her change out of her stupid, puffy costume before she had left, otherwise Sarah feared she would have been stuck in Shakespearean getup for the rest of her day. As she stepped out of the tightness of her jeans and slipped into the reliving comfort of her pyjamas, she thought about how her life had remained relatively unchanged since she was fifteen. Of course, she had moved out of her parent's suburban, white-picketed house and moved closer to the city. Her flat was modest (by which she meant incredibly small) with one box-like bedroom, a bathroom which was more like a shower closet, and a compact kitchen leading off from the corridor. At least the heating and electric worked, most of the time. When she had moved in, she had painted it bright colours to make it look airy and light…now after six years it just looked unloved. The reason why she had never moved away had been mostly to do with Irene's passing. It had been soul crushing for her father to see how she declined so rapidly. It had been much worse for Toby. It had only been a year ago, and he had never experienced death before. He had stayed with her most nights after Irene's funeral. She had moved back into her family home for a while until everything cooled down. Toby would tap on her door at night, silent and hollow-eyed. At first she had expected tears, but he never did cry. He just hugged her fiercely like she would disappear any second. She would smooth down his downy hair, chanting over and over that she would never leave him.

Sarah had been ready to travel, willing to move to peruse her acting career. But how could she ever leave Toby, when he needed her so desperately? Instead, she attended the local college, studied Production (which had been an added bonus to her Drama degree) and landed a job working as a techie with the local theatre group.

Sarah feared, however, that some part of her reluctance to leave also had something to do with looming presence she was facing now. It almost like a petulant child's anxiety over Santa forgetting their address if they moved. Sarah feared that what she had found in the Labyrinth, her friends, her courage and even the Goblin King himself would disappear completely. Rooted here, she could access memories in which no other place could.

By the time she padded out of the bathroom, clad in her flannel pyjamas, her father had already pulled back the covers of her squat bed. When he offered to tuck her in, she refused with a laugh, "I'm not ten years old, you know?" she said with a tired smile. She was still wary of what lay ahead, but she wanted to act at least slightly normal in front of her father, and Toby.

"I know you're not," he said with a sigh and a small smile. The skin around his eyes crinkled, "I just forget that sometimes." He kissed her on the forehead and called Toby out from the living room. He came bounding in, sprouting out something about defeating the Overlord of the Galaxy or something like that. Sarah hugged him fiercely to her and kissed his cheek. After tonight, who knew when she would be able to do it again? He squirmed under her love, protesting that it wasn't cool to be hugged by his sister – especially in those pyjamas! She tickled him behind the ear, and he giggled. It had always been his weakness, even if he thought he was too 'cool' for it. After being hugged almost to death, Sarah's family began to leave. It had certainly been more than five minutes, but she had been happy about that. With one last worried look from her father, they left. She bolted the door shut and turned to face the corridor. She placed her hands on her spotty, flannelled hips; a warrior stance.

Toby had vanquished the Overlord of the Galaxy, now it was Sarah's turn to vanquish her own.


	6. Heat

"_**What babe…?" **_

By the time she had blockaded the entire apartment, pushing the sofa against the door (not like that would stop the Goblin King, who poofed in and out of a room like gravity didn't affect him – maybe it didn't?), she was ready for him. She sat cross-legged at the top of her bed, her back against the green wall, and a frying pan clutched in her hands. Admittedly, the frying pan had been a spur of the moment choice. Something to defend herself with, if she needed it. She knew its protection was redundant against the Goblin King's glittery tactics, but its presence was comforting nevertheless.

Out of the blue, her alarm clock buzzed on her dresser; it never had understood the concept of time. Quite ironic for an alarm clock, to never actually know the time. Sarah knocked it on the head once with the side of the frying pan to shut it up.

It simply squeaked again, _00.47 a.m._

With a huff, she hit it again, watching the force of the hit wacked it to the floor. She threw a green pillow over it, hopefully silencing it forever. Sarah felt like it had been days since she had summoned the Goblin King, even since she saw the owl figure flying above her. _He's sure taking his time_, she thought with a huff, as she placed her hand under her chin. Her head felt heavy, like a cinderblock resting on her shoulders. So did her eyes for that matter, heavy and gritty. Sarah stifled a yawn as she began to dig her cold feet under the duvet. For a brief moment her eyes closed….the frying pan fell from her hand, clattering onto the floor and pulling Sarah back from the land of blessed sleep.

Damn it! She _could _not fall asleep right now. Sarah knew she had to be alert, have her senses highly tuned and on full guard… but she was so tired. Looking at the frying pan now, her sole comfort in this, she couldn't even be bothered to crawl out of her bed to fetch it. With a groan she rolled over and began to cocoon herself in the duvet.

It had been an extremely long, eventful day. First she had slept in, then she had been late for work…and oh yeah, she had found out that the Underground was in the throes of war, her friends were likely in danger and then she had foolishly summoned a very tardy monarch to meet her. _And she had fainted!_ Sarah had never fainted in her life, and she knew that _that_ particular incident was going to be hard to live down. Actors were never fond of someone out shining them, or in Sarah's case out-fainting them.

Yes, it was a lot to process for one day… something told her it was only going to get more so.

Sarah sighed, her tired eyelids drooping over her green eyes out of exhaustion. The bed was so comfy. Unintentionally, she snuggled down into its warm, bouncy recesses. If she wanted anything right now, it was to sleep and to forget about this silly mess. Content and comfy noises murmured out of her mouth as she let the soft duvet take its hold. Thinking on it, she was sure she was supposed to be doing something…or _not _doing something. Images of work, dancing creature, stone walls and her Underground friends flittered around her sleep-deprived mind. They lulled her in, making the light behind her eyes darken as they sung sweet words to her.

It was such a lovely sound, like a humming from deep inside someone's chest, a rumbling almost. It sung to her again and she nuzzled her face deeper into the pillow. It was such a tranquil sound. She never wanted it to stop.

So engrossed in the music, Sarah barely noticed how a weight settled on the bed beside her, making her roll slightly towards it. Something brushed against her hair, pushing it back from her face and began twisting it gently over and over. The lullaby was still playing, although it was louder now. She reached out towards the sound, wanting to capture it. Her hands hit something hard. With a frown she traced the feel of the solid feature. It was detailed, bumpy…and it seemed to be moving. In and out. In and out. She wrinkled her nose in displeasure as the sound stopped abruptly. Tiredness led her forward as she grasped something with her left hand, it was horned and pointed at the edges. Her right hand touched something warm and soft…like skin… She froze.

Breath touched her cheek as someone leaned forward and whispered, "Did you miss me?"

Sarah bolted upright, splaying the covers around her as she sprang from the bed. There was a muffled protest behind her, but she kept moving towards the relative safety of the living room. She said a curse that would kill a nun as she accidently kicked the discarded frying pan with her big toe. It scattered across the room and landed with a thump against the sofa leg. Hopping on one foot, Sarah managed to duck behind the sofa, grabbing the errant frying pan before she curled up into a defensive ball. She was breathing heavily, her toe throbbed like hell and her hands shook violently as she held onto her make-shift weapon. She was also blushing quite ridiculously. Sarah didn't know if it was from the sprint, the pain or the fact that he had probably been the one playing with her hair. Involuntarily, she reached up and felt the strand of hair that had been twisted neatly behind her ear.

"Well, I must say," he said in that accent of his, "This is rather inhospitable." She could imagine him, decked out in all his 'Prince of Darkness' glory, standing with his hands on his narrow hips sauntering around the room. Each step would be careful and calculated. She could hear his foot fall around the room; he was rather too close to her hiding place, for Sarah's liking. She scuttled down and around the edge of the sofa, just enough to peek out at him. Except, he wasn't there. There was no sign of him in the living room. Not even a glitter trail…_It couldn't have been a dream, could it?_ Sarah thought as scuttled back long the floor. Her flannel-cladded bum knocked into something and she scooted forward, rolling onto her back like a clumsy turtle, rocking back and forth. She swung the frying pan violently in the air, trying to get a hit.

The Goblin King grinned wickedly at her. "Oh dear, Sarah," he said, approaching her slowly. His long, black cape billowed around him. He lifted one pointed eyebrow, "Did you really think that petty instrument would work on me?" With the flick of his gloved wrist, the frying pan vanished leaving behind a dusting of silver powder around Sarah's hand.

She brushed it off and stood fully, "Hey! Not fair."

The Goblin King laughed, "Still complaining about that, are we?" He was closing in around her, taking tiny steps as if she were a gazelle and he, the willing predator. Sarah backed up against the bookcase, her hands splaying out against the shelves, searching for anything that could be used as a weapon. She grabbed something round and heavy and, without thinking, she hurled it him. Taking her chance, Sarah jumped over the sofa, landing awkwardly on her ankle, and rushed into the kitchen. She didn't know exactly what she was looking for, so she started opening and closing drawers frantically with loud bangs. Pushing her hair from her face, she reached down into her cutlery draw. Grabbing a utensil, she faced the living room bravely holding it out in front of her, "What do you want?" Sarah asked, her voice shaking slightly. She knew it was a stupid question, she had summoned him after all! Why _had _she summoned him again?

Jareth appeared next to her, swerving into the kitchen like angry, ruffled peacock. He did not look pleased at all. "I wonder, dear Sarah," he said, rubbing his forehead, "if you attack _all _your guests upon entering your home?" He held out the green, paint-splattered piggy bank Toby had made for her birthday.

"You are _not _my guest," she said firmly, holding out her make-shift weapon proudly. "Get out." Jareth eyed the object in her hand with a quizzically raised brow. She glanced down. _A fork. _Sarah wanted to groan. Instead, she held it proudly. She even dared to prod Jareth in the chest with its prongs, "I said. Get. Out."

That earned her a slightly amused smile from the monarch. He placed the green pig down on the counter and moved closer, pushing her against sink and the fork deeper into his plated chest. He didn't seem to mind. Sarah tried to control her breathing and her erratic heartbeat. "You forget, dearest," he said, conjuring up a glass orb in his right hand. Sarah wasn't sure how he found the room, she felt like a piece of canned tuna sandwiched between the counter and Jareth's warm body. It was indeed very warm… _Oh, shut up, Sarah! _she thought, loathing herself for thinking that anything to do with the Goblin King was 'warm'. He continued, "You summoned me." He held out the orb to her, watching her with his strange, fascinating eyes as she gazed into the orb's depths. It pictured her, wearing Shakespearean garb, calling out to him…and then fainting.

How ladylike…

He was right, Sarah had summoned him. Only, now that he was standing inches away from her, his breath mingling with hers, she had forgotten the reason why. It had seemed serious enough at the time. Now, however, it was a mere blip. She had spoken rashly, with anger clinging to her ribcage like a stinky, unwanted piece of gum. She had wanted vengeance for something…her deflated love life perhaps. However, with the menacing man's lip a mere inch away from hers, it seemed like a silly excuse. She hadn't realised that she had been staring into those uneven eyes until Jareth winced slightly and briskly turned away. He snatched the orb from her sight, taking it with him as began to walk the small length of the kitchen. She watched as the orb liquefied in his hand leaving behind a small pool of glittery dust in its wake. She knew there would be glitter. She hated it. Last time it had taken her a good two weeks to get it out of her favourite shirt. Sarah watched on with resigned horror as he tipped the substance onto her kitchen floor. _Not on the damn tiles…_

"Do you always treat your hosts with such civility?" she said, folding her arms around her. The fork stabbed into her side, but she ignored it.

He snubbed the comment, taking pinches of the glitter and flicking it around the room absentmindedly. Sarah flared with indignation, "Will you stop –"

Jareth held up his hand. He had his back facing her as he spoke, "Tell me, Sarah, do you have anything in exchange for this visit?"

Sarah froze, "I don't understand." Dread hit her in the pit of the stomach. It twisted and festered quickly into blind panic. _Toby?_

Jareth clicked his tongue against a pointed tooth reproachfully at her. He turned to face her slowly, his pointed features silhouetted against the dim light of the kitchen. "Come, come, surely you understand that this visit comes with a price…" It wasn't really a question. It was statement of intent. He saw the confusion in her face, the fear mixed with dread at the prospect of a price… He grinned impishly, his tongue darting out to trace over his white teeth.

Sarah stumbled forward, the fork falling from her grip, "No, no, no…you can't –"

"Oh, but I can, Sarah," he said flashing another toothy grin, "I truly can."

Sarah wasn't sure how this had escalated so quickly, how the situation had got so out of control. Admittedly, she had never been fully in control – he had _magic_ after all – but at least she had felt a semblance of control. It had been Sarah who had summoned him, it was meant to be on her terms. There was never meant to be a deal, a bargain, a price. Bile rose up her throat, threatening to pool into her mouth. She would never let him take Toby again, or any defenceless child for that matter. "I'm not letting you take him, not again."

Jareth snorted, "Him? I don't see any snivelling babe in want of taking…No, Sarah, what I want is something far more _precious_."

Sarah didn't like the way he was looking at her. "What are you talking about?" she asked, watching him with cautious eyes.

Jareth began to walk around her, circling her. She felt almost dizzy as she glared at his moving figure. It was like he was measuring her, weighing her up like gold at a pawn brokers. Sarah leaned away from him, trying to avoid his eyes at all cost. "You summoned me here, Sarah. I'm rather curious as to why…"

She gulped, holding down the fear that she felt rising in her, as he leaned in taking a piece of her brown hair in between two long, gloved fingers. A part of her like the sensation. The soft tug as he laced his hand through it and the tickling feeling on her neck as it fell back into place. The rational part however wanted to lunge, to scream, to kick down the sofa-barricade and run for it. But he was right, she had made this mess. She was the only one who could remedy it.

"I don't know…" she said honestly. He stopped in front of her, the toe of his boots touching her socked feet.

"Oh, I think you do." He took her chin in his grasp, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Tell me."

She held her tongue. There was no way she was going to spill her soul out to the Goblin King, the one man who had perhaps single-handedly ruined her love-life and any damn hope of ever finding one! Because, she knew, that had been the trigger. As silly as it was, Sarah had admired the Goblin King, even after he had taken her brother. It had been a child-hood fictional crush which had been made into a sordid reality. For years she had become invested in the Underground, acting out the story time and time again. Reliving it. Even in its harsh reality, she had enjoyed her adventure to save her brother. Afterwards, it had been a different story. The world she had loved for so long had to be forgotten, put aside. Yes, her friends had always been there, but one thing never would be again. His presence. When other girls had been fanaticising about Mr Darcy, she had been stuck the baby-kidnapping Goblin King. She was still stuck. He had been the one that had sustained her childhood; the one that had formed tangible memories. That had to be cut out of her life, out of her memory and likewise she had been cut out of it. Even though she had conversations with Hoggle, Sir Didymus and Ludo about the Underground, she could never be part of it again. It had been that childhood event that meant she had to be rid of the Underground and it's King, possibly forever. At times, it had been like cutting out a very piece of her soul.

How could she ever explain the anger, the frustration and loneliness she felt because of that, to the Goblin King?

The simple answer was: she couldn't.

"Like you said,_ Highness_," Sarah said, jerking her chin away from his grasp, "I summoned you here, and it is my time to ask questions."

* * *

**A/N: Just want to say a quick thank you to the lovely reviews, to everyone that followed/favourited the story. Posting two chapters (which was originally one HUGE chapter) this week as I don't know how much I'll be able to write next weekend. Still aiming for weekly updates. So fingers crossed! Enjoy :)**


	7. It's No Game (Part 1)

"_**I've brought you a gift…" **_

"Firstly, you can't just barge in here – on a _sleeping_ woman – and expect to just get your way!" Sarah said, prodding the Goblin King in the shoulder. "My home, my rules."

Jareth looked around the dingy kitchen with a sour face, "I would hardly call this a _home_."

Sarah snorted rather unexpectedly. Jareth eyed her. "Well, excuse me, _Highness,_ but not everyone has a _castle_ to call home." She looked around her well-loved flat, "I like it," she said. She prodded him again, hard. "And I didn't have your personal tastes in mind when I got the place, so forgive me if it doesn't suit."

Sarah had already sauntered away from him, hips wagging unintentionally. Jareth couldn't help but watch how they moved with greedy eyes. He knew how hard she was trying to hide the fact that he was making her uncomfortable, hot and bothered. Or at least, she was trying to look immune to it. She was failing miserably.

"Secondly," she said, spinning around to face him fully, her index finger wagging in front of her, "you will stop with the glitter. You've already made a mess of the kitchen, so that's fair game. But, no damn glitter anywhere else. Is that understood?"

Jareth rolled his eyes, "Perfectly." He folded his long arms across his chest. This liaison wasn't going exactly how he had planned. He was supposed to show up, talk as little as possible, grab Sarah and take her back to the Goblin Kingdom…sorting out this entire war-fiasco. He had dabbled with the idea of giving her to the high council, as a diplomatic gift of sorts. Then, his kingdom would be safe, he would be restored and Sarah would be punished…and oh, how he wanted to see her punished. Instead, he had been assaulted twice; once by a rouge bed sheet, another by a green, hollow pig. Now, he was currently being scolded. It seemed that Sarah was no longer the naïve teenager, brash and innocent. No, now she was a women. Quite a capable woman, too. This was going to be very interesting…

Jareth brushed the excess glitter from his sleeves. It flittered down to the glittery spoil heap on the strange, spongy flooring. Deciding to be deviant, Jareth flicked his wrist ever so slightly to the left, making the glitter land onto an unspoiled patch of wood. In another room. He watched mischievously as Sarah's pink cheeks inflamed at the sight. She moved forward, her arm out stretched, trying to grab his wrist. To stop him. Instead, he grabbed hers and squeezed it gently. Sarah gasped faintly at the contact, looking up at him with surprised eyes.

"This is no game, Sarah," he said, tracing faint patterns around her delicate wrist. "You either obey me, or not. I will abide by your silly rules, but I _will _have my price." At the mention of price, Sarah pulled her wrist from his grip with a force that surprised even Jareth.

She held her arm against her breast and rubbed it with her untouched hand. Soothing it. "I do not bargain with liars," she said with narrowed eyes. He could almost believe that she hated him.

Jareth laughed, "Good thing, then, as I rarely lie."

"No, you just causally drug people…and then lie to them." She almost spat at him.

Jareth wanted to grin, but he refrained. Now would not be the time, Sarah was almost done with him. If she repealed the call, he would be forced to leave. However, as always, she had to say the right words. Like a vampire without an invitation, Jareth was bound by certain metaphysical laws that he was powerless against. Repealing a summoning was one of them. However, only until a bargain had been met. Then, and only then, did Jareth have choice. Not many people knew this, and that's the way he liked it. Wishing away a child, however, was different. It was part and parcel of the Goblin Realm. Refusing a wished-away child was bad enough, subversion at the most, to _lose _a wished-away child was unthinkable.

Likewise with Sarah, the summoning was different. He had already felt the decade old bond alive between the two of them, when he had arrived at the theatre. Even then he could feel it as the pain slipped from him as he drew nearer to her. Even now, the agony he had felt was a dull ache inside his chest. Rising and falling with the beat of his heart, with the blood pumping in his veins. When he touched her…oh, the relief was immediate. It flooded through him, filling him a release so great it fogged his mind. If he could, he would never be without it…without her.

No, his only choice was to lie. Unbeknownst to her, he needed Sarah. Not only as a balm for the pain which racked his body frequently, often leaving him incapable of preforming his Kingly duties. Like actually ruling his kingdom, controlling his goblins…preventing a war. Damn it.

That brought him full circle to his current problem, who was staring at him as if she had just swallowed a hundred fire-breathing dragons. "Oh, yes, _that_," he said with a click of his tongue, "That was just for fun."

"Fun?" Sarah said, disbelieving, "_FUN?_ You call drugging someone fun!?"

"I don't like that tone. I didn't 'drug' you like some sort of hooligan goblin, Sarah." He snorted at the comparison. "I was biding my time."

Sarah rubbed furiously at her face. Jareth didn't like that, it looked like she was going to rub the skin right off. "Will you stop that, Sarah," he said stoutly. When she didn't obey, he grabbed her hands and pulled them away from her reddening face, "Desist."

He was still holding her hands while she spoke, "Biding your time?" Her voice was faint.

"Yes," he said plainly, almost softly.

"For _what_?" Not so faint.

Jareth sighed. Did he really have to spell everything out? Sarah waited, looking at him with a face mixed with fury and patience. Take about a living oxymoron. It was an incredibly difficult mix. He spoke, "It was hardly private." was all he said. _Well, it hadn't been_.

"It was private enough for you to drug me!" she shouted, barely controlling the level of her voice.

"We have already established that I did not 'drug' you," Jareth said pinching the top of his nose between his two fingers.

Sarah tapped her chin, twice, "I think impersonating a medical professional and injecting in a vile of enchanted peach juice into someone's arm, constitutes as _drugging _someone!"

"Hm." Jareth sounded unconvinced, "It was the only way to remain undetected."

"Undetected from whom? I was already expecting you…" Sarah trailed, "Oh, you mean—"

"And the penny has dropped…" Jareth said with an exaggerated sign as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Don't insult my intelligence, Goblin boy."

"_Goblin boy_!? I, madam, am no—"

Sarah waved her hand back and forth, "Yes, yes, I know…You're the all-powerful monarch, all must bow to you. Got it." Sarah shrugged. "So, you had stage fright," she said, watching with glee at how Jareth scowled at the choice turn of phrase, "Still, that's still no excuse to prescribe someone peach juice against their will. I don't think I'll ever get over the hooky-kooky visions it gave me."

Jareth's head shot up, making his snipped 80's glam-rock hairstyle shake. "Whatever do you mean, dear Sarah?" That had him interested. The peach juice had made had no enchantment for visions this time. No, he had made it out of Upperworld peaches. Even if they had been blasted with Underworld magic, there was no way it could have enabled visions. _That_ had to be all Sarah.

If the Goblin King had ever given Sarah strange looks before, this had to be the most damaging. Jareth could tell that Sarah was squirming underneath his curious gaze, but he didn't waver. His otherworldly eyes bore into hers, until she gazed down at her bare feet. Even then, he continued to look at her. "Sarah?" he asked, "I've never been a patient man."

She almost looked like she was going to hit him, or at least try to, again. He would welcome it if she did. He thought about how he would do it, how he would deflect her hand, take her by the waist, grab her neck roughly so her lips where inches away from his…

Sarah was speaking. Like he had said, he wasn't a patient man, but that would have to wait. "They were just illusions, mostly things I had seen or felt back in the…in the…labyrinth." She stumbled over the last word, like she had something caught in her throat.

"Like what? Tell me," he said.

"Will you stop demanding things? It's giving me a headache." She rubbed her forehead, hard, back and forth. Jareth wanted to move her fingers away and replace them with his own, just to stop her from possibly bruising her soft, pale skin.

"Very well," he assented with relief as she moved her hand away and tucked it into her garment pocket. "You are the _Queen_ here, in your home, I shall give you that. However, back in the Underground—"

"Who said anything about going to the Underground?" She sounded almost appalled by the prospect. Jareth tried not to let her obvious revulsion sting, too much.

"That is neither here nor there," he said, getting slightly annoyed. "Stop avoiding the subject and answer."

Sarah looked abashed. She mumbled some nonsense about a pot calling a kettle black, and looked down at her nervously entwined hands. "They weren't exactly visions. They felt real – too real at times. I could feel them, smell them, see them. Fireys, false alarms. They blocked out my vision, beckoning me forward. I'd felt like kind of pull before, so I knew peaches had to be involved." Jareth almost interrupted, but she shook her head and carried on, "I could taste them…and I wanted more. I felt something luring me in, deeper into the dream. It was like the glass bubble at the…" She stumbled, tucking her hair nervously behind her ears, "…the ball. I knew I had to get out. So I did."

"How?" he asked, contemplating.

"I don't necessarily believe that's any of your business," she said finally.

But Jareth already knew, _the boy_. Toby. It was obvious really. Sarah's flat was a clear enough indicator that the boy lived, that he was around frequently. Jareth highly doubted that Sarah had any interest in the numerous toys and contraptions that lay around the main room. Or perhaps she did… _Play with your toys and your costumes. Forget about the baby._

She still cared for the child. He could use that to his advantage.

He was about to open his mouth, ready to speak, when Sarah beat him to it. _A very annoying habit_, Jareth thought, _which must be corrected. _

"I have answered most of your questions, Goblin King, yet you haven't answered mine. And since we clearly can't agree to one line of questioning, how about we take turns?"

He nodded and agreed. It seemed this Sarah was a diplomat – with a penchant for violent outbursts. _She would do well in the Goblin Kingdom._ As soon as he thought it, Jareth pushed it out of his mind. He waved his hand, faking boredom, "Go on."

"Why were you late?" she asked.

"Let's not tread on old ground, shall we?" he said, "You disappoint me, Sarah, I had thought you more original than that." Jareth smiled, trying to charm his way out.

"Answer the damn question." No nonsense.

This was preposterous. He was King, he didn't need to answer any question if he didn't want to. _"Sire, when will the crops be harvested?" _Ignore._ "Highness, the chickens have escaped, what do we do?" _Sigh. _"Do you accept the issue of war that has been declared?" _Walk away.

Sarah didn't look impressed, "You'll get nothing from me, if you don't answer _the_ _damn_ _question_."

Blowing an errant lock away from his face, Jareth leaned against the doorframe with his back. It was oddly satisfying when it clicked, releasing the built up tension. "I was indisposed."

Jareth expected Sarah to shout, to frown, to do anything than what she actually did. She moved towards him, slowly. His breath involuntarily hitched in his chest. She was very close to him. Sarah stood at the other side of the doorframe, a hair's breadth between the, and uttered the one sentence that could truly undo him, "With the war?"

Jareth became angry, and quick. Even in the face of such innocence, he could not control his erratic anger. He could feel the blood being to rush quickly into his veins, the mad fog clinging to his vision. He clenched his fists tightly, ground his teeth so viciously he could taste blood. He was sure he was breathing harder too. Someone had told her… He tilted his head and scowled. When he spoke, it was dangerously quiet, "How do you know that, precious one?" It was not a kind nick-name. It felt heavy on his tongue, like venom. He saw Sarah pale, how she recoiled. Good.

"I…"

"Spit it out, girl." He pinned her to the frame, his hand slamming against the wood, making it shake. His other arm caged her in, moving dangerously close to her neck. Sarah blinked and ducked, her hands coming up to shield her face. She feared him. In the end wasn't that what he had always wanted? He pulled her feeble defence away, took her chin in a tight grasp unlike before, and forced her to look at him. "You will look at me, Sarah." Reluctantly, she did. "_Who _told you?"

His gloved fingers pressed against her throat, she gulped. Her mouth dry. She was trying to show no fear, trying to be brave, how foolish she was being. Jareth could see her fear, feel it. The ache within him that she had been soothing, flared up. But this time, he welcomed it. It enflamed his anger, directed it at her. Only her. She had inflicted him, the least he could do was share his burden. "I will have them, Sarah. Even if you do not tell me, I will hunt them." He laughed, it shocked her. "Your friends shall suffer for their disobedience."

"No…" she breathed, "You can't hurt them."

"Oh, foolish Sarah," he said, tracing her jawline with his fingertip, "Of course, I can."

* * *

Sarah watched him with curious and cautious eyes as she pushed away from the cool wood at her back. His anger came as quickly as it cooled. He let her move freely, not trying to obstruct her. She didn't move far, only to the other side of the wall. Immediately, she felt the loss of his absence. The warmth that had pervaded her body from his was now gone, replaced by a shiver of cold. She had been terrified, flushed and stunned by his reaction. She could still feel the cool path his gloved finger had traced along her jaw. It tingled. As she leant against the cool tiles, her legs almost gave out. But she would not fall in front of him; wouldn't give him the satisfaction to see her weakened. To see that he had finally caught her. His hand fell to his side, the one that had smoothed down her jaw, as he asked, "Well, Sarah, what is it to be?"

She didn't answer.

She stared at the patch of floor where Jareth stood, his shadow overcasting the orange synthetic light that emanated from the grubby kitchen window. He tapped his foot, drawing her attention back up to his startling features. Pointed eyebrows and bright eyes glared down at her, waiting. She didn't look him in the eye. "Sarah," he said impatiently, almost scolding, "I'm waiting."

"Fine," he said with a huff, "I shall take your silence as an affirmation of their guilt. Your friends shall suffer, Sarah. Far more so, than a dip in the Bog of Eternal Stench." He grinned tightly. His eyes narrowed at her; obviously he was still rather furious.

"I know what you're doing," Sarah whispered.

Jareth frowned, "And what is that, _precious_?"

She looked at him, then. Quickly and fully. She locked eyes with him and refused to budge under his scrutiny. "Goading me," she said, "manipulating me. I won't fall for it. Not this time, _Goblin_."

"Why ever would I do that?" he said, producing a crystal in his hand. He began to juggle it, twisting it between his long fingers. His eyes were trained on her, "Sarah, you are ever so determined to make me the villain."

"You _are_ the villain." Sarah wasn't ashamed by the fact she had made the Goblin King her own personal villain. After taking her baby brother away, trapping her in a labyrinth and now threatening her friends, how could she not see him as evil? There was a part of her, one that she didn't want, that thought perhaps there was more to the King, but right now – he was the enemy.

"Still such a child," he said, clicking his tongue. "Let us re-examine, shall we?" He spun the crystal on the tip of his finger. "It was _you_, Sarah, who wished away your brother. Not I." The crystal in his hand split into two, three and then four. He was juggling them with effortless care. The movements transfixed Sarah just as they always done. He continued, rapidly manipulating the orbs in his hands, "It was you, who just now, refused to help your friends when I offered their redemption. You are careless with your decisions, precious one." He let his hand slipped purposefully. One of the crystals fell but he caught it effectively, bending his form elegantly to the side. "Impulsive. Rash. Unthinking." He grinned up knowingly at her, "And yet, you compare me to the villain when I have done little else but try to _help_, while you, my mighty champion, have done little else but ruin the little lives around you."

He stood to full form, still balancing the crystals in his hands. They merged one by one, glowing slightly as their translucent forms fused together.

Sarah felt like someone had chewed out her gut. She didn't feel offended, angry or even upset. She felt numb. So that was really what he thought of her? A niggling feeling crept into her mind. Maybe that what's everyone thought? Sarah Williams: bad tempered, irrational and… destructive. No, no. She shook her head, trying to get Jareth's words out of her mind. She may have been like that as a _teenager_ – but wasn't every teenager like that? She was damn sure Toby would have his wild, unthinking phase. Teenage years were difficult, like traipsing around a misty field in dark trying to find the path out. Sarah regretted sending Toby away, Jareth was right about that. But to say she had refused to help her friends was ridiculously unkind and uninformed.

"You haven't known me in a while, _Jareth_." He looked briefly startled by the use of his given name, but she carried on, "I'm not fifteen anymore. I don't run labyrinths anymore, I don't solve riddles apart from the occasional crossword now and then, and I don't fight Goblin armies in my spare time."

"Hm." was all he said. But his slow forming grin was enough for Sarah. It was all too knowing and pleased. She wasn't sure what she had said that amused him so much, but she was sure about one thing: she didn't want to find out. In fact she want to run and hide under her duvet, cocoon herself in and forget about the silly, tight-breeches wearing Goblin King.

Avoiding his eyes, Sarah looked to her side, grossly interested in the toaster. "Like I said, your tricks won't work on me. You have no power over me." She knew she shouldn't have said it. The words felt raw on her tongue like sandpaper rubbing against soft skin.

His head bowed slightly to the side, displaying the profile of his angular features in a halo of streetlight. One eye was trained on Sarah as he laughed hoarsely. It wasn't like his usual laugh, it was more of a syllable. A note of a laugh: sceptical to the very core. His anger was clinging to him like a wayward piece of lead.

"Correct," he said, with such authority that Sarah breathed out a sign of relief. It was short lived. "You are not a subject in my kingdom. You've made that _perfectly _clear before now." She tried not to blush at that insinuation. "But you forget who is, Sarah. I must say, it's very poor of you to overlook them so easily." She was about to interject, words perched on her lips ready to contradict. He stopped her, by quickly producing another crystal again. Just one this time. No show, all business. "But now, thanks to you, my powers can extend even into this world."

Sarah's stomach clenched, her arms encircled her ribcage defensively and she breathed out as her mind whirled at the implications. "I don't do riddles, speak plainly." She treated his harsh word with her own.

"Did you really think nothing would be unaltered by your victory?" he said, raising an eyebrow. He rolled the orb in his palm.

"What do you mean?" she breathed.

"There has never been a champion before, the Labyrinth had never been finished. You finished it. No child has been won back. That changes things."

"Like what exactly?"

"By taking back the child, you weakened the boundary between the Upper and Underground. I, even with my powers, could never fully breach the boundary, until now. Not in my true form…not without your help, of course."

Sarah couldn't understand. She had been the first to win? Of course, but by doing that she had changed the very fabric of the two realms. "But... I defeated you!" she said, twisting the fabric of her pyjamas tighter around her waist.

Jareth held up a finger. "Correction, you defeated the _Labyrinth_. You caught me on a bad day."

Sarah would have laughed, if she wasn't shaking with anxiety. She had brought the Goblin King here, now her thoughts travelled to how his appearance had effected the world around them. How it would affect those she loved. She rubbed her forehead. Jareth frowned at the action. She scowled. "_Correction_, correction: I defeated _you_. Don't blame the defences, blame the monarch—"

"Technicalities," he said dismissively with a wave of his hand.

"Why are you telling me this, Jareth?" she shook her head, "What does this have to do with my friends, your power over them…" Something clicked into place. Jareth watched with unhidden interest as she pieced it together. "You don't care about my friends…you want something else. Something from this world."

Sarah's throat was dry and her hands clenched against her side, clammy and shaking as she waited for the Goblin King. Except he didn't say anything. His head turned to side again and she was left with the side view of his slim frame and wild backcombed hair that covered his face slightly.

Sarah's voice shook slightly as she gazed at him, pointed features and all. "This is your price isn't it?" she said.

"Finally, Sarah, I was beginning to worry for your intelligence." He grinned like the Cheshire Cat. There was something cunning hidden in that smile, almost like he was hiding something from Sarah. _Which is obvious, _Sarah thought_, why would he ever tell me the truth? Liar. _He strode forward and propped his arm against the wall next to Sarah, his right boot crossed over his left as he leaned closer. "Poor Sarah, this isn't at all what you planned, is it?

Sarah didn't know what she had planned. _I didn't think at all._ "You have no idea."

"Well, we have come full circle, haven't we? All you need to do now is throw something at me, and perhaps run away again and then we can wrap this little gathering up." he said, juggling the crystal between his two hands. He threw it up in the air and caught it with a firm grip. His hand opened like a blooming flower, producing a smaller crystal in his hand. Sarah stared at it.

"I will accept anything you ask of _me_, only don't hurt the ones I love." _Especially not Toby. _

It was then that Jareth's laugh returned. "Oh, conditions, conditions," he said, "Tra-la-la."

"You can't take Toby," she said, watching him with pleading eyes. She didn't care right now if she looked as weak as a snail beneath his foot, she would do anything to keep Toby in this world. Happy and safe.

"I don't want the babe," he said, watching her eyes.

Outside the natural light was gone, virtually replaced by streetlamps. Orange flares of synthetic light emanated from the window. They danced up and down the walls and cold floor. It was quite between them. Sarah could only hear the sound of own laboured breathing and the howling of the wind as shook the tree branches outside. She stared at the crystal. Her hand reached out and traced a pattern of the forming picture. Two bodies were moving together. Dancing almost against a clear white background. Accidently, as she traced the outline of the orb her fingers brushed against his palm. He breathed deeply, swayed slightly. The way he moved, the way he breathed. It strange. Even though her gaze was fixed on the emerging figures, she noted how he held his side, how he breathed in sharply at her touch. Strange…

She kept watching the crystal as the images formed fully: Jareth was holding a woman. She was dancing with him, wrapped in a makeshift outfit made out a white bed sheet…

"It's not the babe I want," he repeated, "It's you."


	8. Underground

"_**Forget about the baby…"**_

Jareth held out his gloved hand to her, "Take it, Sarah."

The crystal was still in his palm. The light moved inside of it, displaying the figures as almost transcendent beings, morphing and changing; spelling out a future which could have been. Sarah watched, her chest heavy with remorse. She could have had this. She could have had _him_. It was ridiculous to even think of what could have been. Of what still could be. Frustrated, she rubbed at her forehead until it felt raw. Jareth was no doubt frowning with displeasure at the action, but she carried on anyway. She needed to think.

"Take it, take what you want," he said again, holding out the small crystal to her. This felt way too familiar…

Sarah knitted her eyebrows together, frowning at the small orb. What was happening here?

Her mind felt like a pair of knotted socks jumbling around in a washing machine: reason and emotion churned around inside, neither willing to give in. Sarah needed one to give in, to lose. She needed to be able to think. Like last time, she needed to remember the line. Apart from this time, there was no line to remember – no script to follow. She wanted to scream, or be sick. Everything inside of her was at conflict. She felt like she had been trapped in No Man's Land where she could neither push forward nor retreat. Jareth's inconsistent babblings hadn't helped either. Before, at the beginning, he had no problem blackmailing her. Threatening her friends and family in order for her to react, in order for her to agree to any of his terms. Of course, he knew love was her weak spot, the soft place in her side where he could thrust a dagger. Sarah would agree to anything if it saved the ones she loved. But why the sudden change? She would have went with him if he pushed her, threatened some more. Now, he wanted her and her alone. His tactics had altered so rapidly that she barely had time to puzzle them together. This could not be real. He had to be lying. _He must know something,_ she thought. It was the only reason: he knew something she didn't.

Sarah pulled at her roots, knuckles turning white. "No, this is just another trick," she said. She wanted to move away from him, to refuse his offer. But how could she? He had her hook, line and sinker. He was playing her like a fiddle. He knew her too well. Obviously, their last encounter had left a memorable impression on the Goblin King. Family, friends and then herself. That's how she lived her life since coming back from the Labyrinth.

That's how she would continue to live it, even if she accepted.

"No tricks," Jareth said, "Just an offer."

She felt his gaze burn her cheeks before she dared look at him. He was too close then. Closer than he had been before. Automatically, Sarah stood back slightly, leaning away from him. Clammy hands rubbed against her pyjamas. It took her a moment to realise that it was her own hands clinging to the material, twisting it anxiously into little knots. She was sweating profusely. Her throat was dry and she could feel the moisture collecting between her shoulder blades. He was too close. Panicked, she looked up at him, trying not to breathe too heavily. _I must look like a fool. _Jareth noticed how uncomfortable she was and unexpectedly took two steps back, giving her space. If there was one thing about Goblin Kings – she had only met one, but one was enough to make a full study – it was that they needed to learn about personal space. Boundaries.

Jareth still held the flickering orb towards her, his hand pointing to the centre of her ribcage. With distance between them, she could think. She unravelled her hands from her hair and stared at the crystal. Biting the side of her mouth, Sarah contemplated the offer. _This was not real, this could not be real. _Sarah felt like she was having an anxiety attack. Vision fuzzed around the edges and black spots appear. _I will not faint – again! _

Composing herself, she gulped clearing her throat and let go of her sweat matted pyjama bottoms. "So," she said, fully aware of how her voice shook, "If I take this crystal I accept the offer, correct?"

"Correct." It was all he said. He just pinned her with _that_ glare.

Sarah wanted to giggle nervously. A bubble rose in her throat. She pushed it back down. With a mouth that felt numb, like she had just recently had a root-canal – the taste of dry cotton wool sticking to her gums – she addressed Jareth, "And what then?" she asked, waving her hands around in the air like she was miming. She didn't really know what to do with the jelly-like ligaments. "We poof away to the Underground and I never see my family again?" Nervousness hit her finally at the mention of family, of the reality that faced her, and she began to babble. "Or worse, you're lying to me. You punish my friends, hurt my family and I'm stuck being your concubine?"

Yes, that had just come out of her mouth. She snapped it shut, utterly embarrassed.

Even with her enflamed cheeks, Sarah tried not to be amused at Jareth's stricken expression. He was both entertained and slightly flabbergasted at the notion. Probably more so that fifteen-year old Sarah Williams would never have voiced such a thing. Well, she definitely wasn't a child anymore._ No, instead I'm a blabbering fool. _

Jareth smirked, pointed incisors making an appearance. "Well, I cannot deny that the latter certainly seems more appealing," he said.

Sarah's mouth fell open. Again.

Was there any moment in where this man would not make her feel like an inexperienced teenager? Apparently not.

"The price is simple. You come with me back to the Underground. I will not hurt your friends, Sarah." Sarah was about to interrupt, her mouth still hanging open. Jareth flicked the crystal up and caught it, "Or the child."

Suddenly, he smirked like the cat who'd caught the mouse. The mouse being Sarah. "As for the other _arrangements_, we can discuss them later."

Sarah gulped. Damn her foolish tongue!

"Oh come, Sarah," he said with an elegant roll of his otherworldly eyes, "I tire of this dalliance. Make up your mind." He strutted away, boots clicking (and other appendages moving, quite noticeably). Blood rushed up from Sarah's neck and into her cheeks. Great, if that didn't stop soon she would literally turn into a human beacon of mortification. Jareth was flicking the crystal about, around his arms, through his hands and over his fingers. He was staring at her, bright grin outlined by the dim light. He had caught her gawking.

He continued, undaunted, "Either you choose chivalry or cowardice, it's quite simple."

Chewing on her bottom lip, Sarah asked, "I have your word that no one will be harmed?" She wasn't entirely sure if she believed his word, but it felt comforting nevertheless.

"You have it," he said with a slight exasperated nod. Jareth extended his palm, a flitter of a grin playing around on his lips. She caught a glimpse of a pointed tooth behind the straight lips as he said, "Now. Take it."

He threw it up in the air. It gained speed suddenly, plummeting down towards Sarah's outstretched hands. Flustered, she reached for it, not wanting it to shatter onto a million pieces. It slowed unexpectedly, halting above her cupped hands.

"Do you accept?" Jareth asked. His face an outline of glitter and wild hair far behind the orb.

Sarah breathed and nodded slowly, "I do."

The cool glass landed flat against her palms, rolling slightly at the impact. Still the figures were dancing, moving together seemingly happy in their little private bubble of time. The glass began to heat suddenly. Warmth sprang from the object and she almost dropped it. A smoky blackness covered the orb, and the figures transformed. Jareth was before her in an instant. A destroyed city appeared in the crystal, decimated and burnt. Small unanimated bodies were strewn everywhere as other collected around them, looting and mourning. In the background there was a castle, equally disfigured. The scene moved and inside the castle was empty apart from mangled corpses covering the stone floors. It was a ruin. Two bodies stood out in the silence chaos. They reached out to each other, their hands out stretched but not quite touching. In their last moments they had failed in accomplishing their last wish. To be together.

Sarah had noticed how they looked remarkably like… She felt sick. Jareth grabbed the orb forcefully out of her hand and smashed it against the wall, knowing full well that the damned spongy flooring would not crack the crystal. With a grunt, he grabbed Sarah's elbow and hauled her through the wall towards the Underground. The last thing Sarah heard before the wall engulfed her was the "No, wait!" that fell from her slack jaw.

* * *

Not only was his head throbbing, but the incessant pain had returned again. As soon as Jareth stepped onto Underground soil, the ripping feeling appeared again making his lungs burn and his eyes water. Their surroundings grew less foggy the further they moved away from the portal and the Labyrinth stretched out before them. The Goblin Kingdom was laid bare for their eyes. From here you could see the beginnings of the weaving and ever changing Labyrinth, even a small glimpse at the Goblin town, the newly built and furnished Realm barracks and even beyond. However, what took Jareth's attention was the sight of the Castle, standing in all its commanding glory above its subjects. A living embodiment of the survival of his Kingdom. Sometimes, it was nice to be back home.

The mundane Upperworld was no place for any Underground King. But now he could return anytime he wanted to, or needed to, and that was all thanks to the young (yes, she was still young in Jareth's old eyes) woman currently clinging to the lapels of his jacket. Sarah had not let go of him throughout the entire journey, no doubt scarred by what she had seen manifesting in the crystal. She had stuck to him like a rogue fairy clings to an unsuspecting runner. Like she would die if she did not hold onto him, that she was taking sustenance and strength from him. Some part of Jareth liked the fact that this Sarah wasn't afraid to show her fear, and not hide it behind a teenage façade. It was rather refreshing. However, right now, Jareth could only concentrate on one thing at a time: the wound needed attention. He needed the Goblin's physician.

Ugh, how he hated the man.

Walking away from Sarah right now, he knew, would only make the wound stretch, the pain worsen. So instead of letting her go, like his mind screamed at him to do, he held onto her slipping his hand around her flannelled back, holding her in place. Sarah's eyes went wide when she saw the view in front of her, barely noticing how Jareth held her. Instead her gaze beheld the beauty of the Underground. Jareth couldn't tell if she had either missed the place or feared it. He thought he detected awe and remembrance tinting her pale face as the midday sun gleamed down on the rocky cliffs around them. He was not sure. The next few words confirmed it, "How could I forget?"

She was obviously talking to herself, not him as she stared into the vast beauty that was the Goblin Kingdom. She moved forward, out of his embrace. Jareth tried not to hiss as the wound stretched, the pain almost blinding him.

She stood there, silhouetted by the sun, in her strange fuzzy pink garments. Hair swung low to her shoulder blades. It rippled over her shoulders like a dark wave as she moved her head side to side, taking in her surroundings. Jareth had the urge to bite off his gloves and run his fingers through it, if only to alleviate the agony tearing into him. He raised his hand, tip of his glove poised against his thin lips ready to bite, when Sarah turned on him.

"What was that back there?" she asked, crossing her adamantly arms over her chest.

_Good question, _Jareth thought. To be perfectly honest Jareth didn't know. Nor did he understand how it could happen. He had spelled the crystal to shatter and export Sarah and himself back to the Goblin Kingdom as soon as it touched her hand. He did not plan on it acting on its own accord. Jareth too had seen the images the crystal had produced. At first, he welcomed the images of him and Sarah dancing – he had created them after all. But the images of death, destruction and decay he had not created. Nor did he wish to. It was a rare thing for Jareth not to understand something, not to be several steps ahead, but with this he was indeed stumped. He felt that was a very bad omen indeed.

Sarah watched him, waiting.

Jareth huffed, "An errant crystal, nothing more." He rubbed some invisible flint from his jacket and strode on ahead of her down towards the entrance of the Labyrinth.

She followed, struggling to keep up with his strides. "I don't believe you." She jumped over a rock and winced as it snagged against her ankle.

"You don't have to," he said plainly, gritting his teeth. With each bend of his grey-breeched knees, the pain flared up inside of him moving on its own accord. Damn it.

Sarah scoffed, "Why are you so infuriating?" she asked. He shrugged, wanting to get to the castle as quickly as possible. He could just spirit them away with the flick of his wrist, however carrying both of them would be a strain that Jareth didn't need right now. If he arrived at the castle, in the middle of the throne room with Sarah on his arm and wheezing in pain, not only would his subjects know something was terribly wrong, but no doubt the Realm would become involved. He was sure they had spies within his court and the Goblins could be fickle in their loyalty. Sarah would suspect too. He would – nay, could not – not allow that.

Sarah was still talking away. Even with his back turned, he knew she would be gesticulating wildly, much like whenever she felt passionate about something. He had seen the trademark expression whenever she had tried out for a play in high-school, when she was talking about something extremely interesting over dinner. Even when she was singing to herself. Her hands moved at a constant speed of hyperactivity. It was truly endearing. Not that he would ever let her know that.

"Excuse me, Goblin boy," she said. Again with that nick-name. For a moment, one could doubt if Sarah had ever seen a goblin before. Really, did he look remotely like a Goblin at all? He held his side, shook his head and continued towards the Labyrinth Gate. Sarah was still rambling. He was barely listening. Blood throbbed in his temples, muffling her words. "…Is there some kind of Goblin King clause in which they all have to be pompous asses for an allotted number of hours of the day?" _That_, however caught his attention. He turned to face her then, placing his hands on his hips. He winced but she didn't notice, she was too busy trailing behind kicking dust about between her bare feet and looking utterly confused by her surroundings. She laughed (mostly to herself), "Because you Goblin King, are definitely working overtime."

The smile was still playing about on her lips as she collided with the foreboding figure of the Goblin King. Jareth was pleased to see that it vanished quickly. She visibly gulped and moved back by three steps. Tucking her hair sheepishly behind her ear, she surprising spoke, "I didn't think your were paying attention."

Jareth glared. "You have my attention now," he said, "Please repeat your last question, I am curious to know what you meant by 'pompous ass.'"

Unsurprisingly, Sarah didn't cower. Her gaze was unswerving. "I was remarking about how rude you actually are, Jareth."

"I am not rude," he said, turning away from her and walking on.

"There!" she said, catching up with him, "Right there! That was rude."

Jareth scoffed. He was rather enjoying tormenting poor Sarah. She was walking beside him now, every so often glaring up at him from out of the corner of her eye. She wholly disapproved of him. He rather liked that. How titillating. Supressing a fiendish grin, he examined her from the corner of his eye. Like he thought, she was biting on that bottom lip of hers. _Bad Sarah. _One day he would pull that lip out from those shiny pearls with the hook of his thumb and trace their seams. A thought was on the tip of her pink tongue. He watched as it darted out now and then following the path his thumb would one day touch. His mouth was watering. The unattended wound was almost forgot. Jareth waited, impatiently, for her to speak. She was barely holding it in even now: a cutting remark forming in that remarkable head of hers. Breath hitched, he was almost pulsating to hear her snarky reply. However, what came out of her mouth next he certainly did not expect.

Pink cheeks, red lips, flushed. All of that suddenly disappeared when she exclaimed, "Hoggle!"

"_Hoggle?_" he asked, utterly confused by the turn of events.

Dumfounded as Jareth was, he let her slide past him as he stood frozen to the spot. Running down the rocky path way with delicate ease, she barely cared for her unprotected, naked feet. Elated, she jumped onto the tanned sand below her, naked toes digging into the debris as she ran towards the dwarf.

Jareth muttered, a bad taste forming in his mouth. "Hoggle."

Sarah embraced the dwarf like a long lost family member. Was it not only two days ago that she had seen the dwarf? Really, how could she miss him in that time? Unimpressed, Jareth strode towards the embracing couple. Hoggle, it seems, had been outside spraying pesky fairies trying to get Labyrinth. It was the job Jareth had assigned him for everyday to the end of time – better than the Bog, he supposed. Approaching slowly, Jareth saw – with a hint of jealousy brewing in his chest – how Sarah cared about the dwarf. And vice versa.

"Sarah," the dwarf was asking, "How…how are you here? It's not possible." Sarah might not have spotted the trepidation in the old dwarf's face, but Jareth certainly did. Spotting weakness was Jareth's speciality. How cute, he feared for her life.

Sarah was squeezing Hoggle's neck so tightly that his face began to turn a deep shade of pink. She let go and smiled at the dwarf, "It doesn't really—"

"_You_!" he said, as he spotted Jareth approaching. He pushed past Sarah, his eyes bulging with accusation, "What have you done?"

"Ah, Hedgewart," Jareth said, towering over the dwarf. Predictably, the dwarf cowered. Whenever he had encountered the dwarf after Sarah's run of the Labyrinth, he had been difficult to deal with. Strange ideas had begun to form in his little rounded head. Tyrant this, blackguard that. It was beginning to tire Jareth out, this constant game of blame the monarch. Jareth sighed. You can never please everyone. Jareth continued, "How is my little revolutionary today?"

"Why have you brought her here?" he asked, standing far enough back so Jareth couldn't kick him with his shiny, pointed boots.

Jareth laughed and strutted around the petrified yet brave dwarf, "I didn't bring her, she came of her own accord."

Hoggle shook but he still managed to retort, "Sarah would never do that. She knows how evil you truly are—"

"Be careful, Hogbrain, you don't want to be tried for treason and thrown into the Bog of Eternal Stench – again." Jareth interrupted. He knelt onto his haunches and flicked Hoggle in the middle of his nose with one gloved finger. Standing, he smirked and leaned against a nearby boulder again. All that moving had caused the lesion snaking around his body to tighten. Jareth breathed deeply, somewhat glad that both the dwarf and Sarah's attention was not focused solely on him.

"Hey," Sarah admonished, "No flicking each other." And then, she thought. Her tongue peaked out again through her lips as she replayed the greeting over in her mind. "Wait," she said, "What do you mean by again?" She turned to Hoggle, a frown on her pale face and arched a quizzical brow. She sniffed. "You were dunked in the Bog of Eternal Stench?" Sarah asked, "But, you don't smell."

"I wasn't _dunked_ into anything," Hoggle said, rolling his eyes. He caught Jareth staring and immediately looked away.

"Go on," Jareth said, addressing Hoggle. He leaned comfortably into the boulder, crossing his arms over his chest. More like holding himself together. Even with the aching he knew this would be entertaining. Jareth had no doubt about that. "Tell her more."

Hoggle shut his mouth and looked down at his tiny feet, scrubbing one against the hard soil in tiny circles.

"Hoggle..." Sarah pushed, talking to him like you would a naughty fae-child. Jareth grinned as he watched the dwarf squirm with discomfort.

Sarah eyed him and he made the fatal mistake of looking into those big green eyes of hers. "Oh, all right," he said, barely fighting, "Like I said, I wasn't dunked into anything. I was however tried for minor treason."

"_Treason_!?" Sarah exclaimed, "Hoggle, why didn't you tell me this!?"

"Oh, Sarah, I would've. I promise you I would. But we ain't supposed to talk about the Underground!" he said, trying to plead.

"Hm, yes," Jareth interjected, wholly unconvinced that the dwarf kept his incarnation and punishment a secret because of Goblin law. Jareth drawled, flicking his tongue against a pointy incisor, "Just like you're not _supposed _to talk about war policies to unsuspecting humans." Hoggle gulped, caught out. "Or, previous to that," Jareth continued, "establish a coup, and try to depose your faithful King…"

Hoggle almost snorted at that. But Sarah interrupted his mid-snort.

"You tried to depose Jareth!?" Sarah screeched. Her hand flew to her throat, surprised at the ferocity of the sound. Jareth knew she felt embarrassed by her outburst but he carried on anyway. She needed to hear this.

"Oh, yes, my dear Sarah," Jareth said, standing somewhat awkwardly and placing a gloved hand on Hoggle's big head, ruffling it. The dwarf fidgeted underneath Jareth's grasp, so he tightened his grip and carried on, "Our little Higgle here managed to stage a one-man coup against me. Didn't manage to gain too much support, even his closest friends thought he was mad." Jareth sneered, "It was quite endearing though, all said and done. He even managed to get some of the rogue chickens on his side."

He pushed the dwarf away by his head, not too hard in case Sarah objected. Hoggle straightened up the little hat on his head and harrumphed.

Sarah scrubbed at her face, murmuring, "This is far too much for me to process right now."

Jareth ignored the red splotches that appeared on her face caused by friction. The action was infuriating nevertheless. "Right then," he said, having enough. He took Sarah by the elbow, turning her away from the loathsome dwarf. "Carry on with your duties, Hogsport. I expect half the population of those irksome fairies gone by midnight," he said leading Sarah away.

Tiny, insignificant fairies fluttered about them, singing and buzzing away like the annoying insects they were. Jareth shooed them away with the back of his hand, but Sarah watched them with awe. She would soon regret that. Paying attention to the vermin was not a wise decision. Once the lowly fairies had you in its grasp, it was ready to bite.

Sarah had obviously ogled for too long.

"Hey, get off," Sarah protested as one of the little sprites started to bite on her flannelled leg. She pulled away from Jareth's hold and began to tease the thing off her trousers. Hoggle sprayed the irritating thing and it fell dizzy to the floor. His foot hovered over it, ready to squish when Sarah protested, "Hoggle, no! Don't kill it."

Jareth rolled his eyes again, which seemed like the umpteenth time since Sarah had summoned him. His head began to ache from it. "Yes, yes, Hogswart, do as she says," Jareth groaned, pinching the bridge of his pointed nose with his forefinger and thumb.

Hoggle stopped, leaving the little disorientated pixie on the hard, cracked earth below him. "Where do you think you're taking her?" Hoggle demanded, his little legs following them to the Labyrinth gate.

"I don't think that is any of your business, dwarf," Jareth said, his jaw clenching as the snake of pain wrapped tighter around his torso.

"Probably the castle, Hoggle," Sarah said, unamused. She obviously wasn't happy being dragged away. Her limbs went limp and pulling her along seemed like pulling along a sack of flour to Jareth. But he continued on. The gates opened with a creak and he moved her inside the threshold.

"You can't take her back there, she'll be killed!" Hoggle said, jumping around them trying to make eye contact.

Sarah dug in her heels, jerking back Jareth's arm. "I'm not getting killed for you, Goblin King."

"Would it please you, Hogsworth, if I retracted your sentence?" Jareth said, fuming at the little incorporative dwarf, "I hear the Bog is a lovely place in summer."

Hoggle shook his head vehemently. "Good," Jareth said, "Now get back to work and do not disturb us."

He took up Sarah's elbow again. Sarah pulled back, "You can't talk to him like that. He's you subject, not your slave."

Jareth whirled on her. "When someone tries to depose me, precious, I am not _inclined_ to be nice to them." Abruptly, he held out his arm. "Now, take my arm. We are expected at the castle."

Hoggle remained silent. Tentatively, Sarah placed her small hand on Jareth's sleeve. Immediately, the pain that had laced up inside of him started to unfurl. Trying not to show the relief Sarah's small touch gave him, Jareth lead Sarah towards the opening. Finally, they could leave the little dwarf to his mechanisms and move towards the castle – where the real fun could begin.

* * *

**A/N: So sorry guys, I expected this chapter to be up on Monday, but I had some major issues with my computer over the weekend. It would not play fair. Lost half of the chapter at first but by some magical handiwork from my IT-minded friend, I managed to get it back. So yay. Never got the chance to proof read it, so if there are mistakes you can either helpfully point them out or totally ignore them (they will be changed - eventually!) Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. Again, sorry for the delay. **


	9. Ricochet

"_**Things aren't always what they seem…"**_

_If he had only went the other way like Worm had said, they wouldn't be in this damned mess…_

It was quite clear that after half an hour walking around in circles, Jareth had no idea where he was going. Strange, as it was his Labyrinth after all. You'd expect him to know where he was actually going. But, then again, he did just glittery poof in and out of places, did he actually need a mental map to know where he needed to be? Which, in fact, begged the question…why hadn't Jareth just poofed them into the Castle? Surely, that would have been a lot easier.

The little worm was there again, bright blue hair and little scarf tucked snugly around his neck – did worms even have necks…? Sarah had no clue, but she was happy to see him nevertheless – as the turned another corner and ended up in the same place they been previously. She pulled out of Jareth's grip and went to greet the little worm for the fourth time. Jareth was too busy mumbling under his breath about stupid, defiant labyrinths and look alike walls, to even notice the little worm. He kicked a rock with his boot, watching as it scuttled down one of the empty pathways, and grunted. Sometimes, Sarah thought that the Goblin King was more of a child than Toby was.

Sarah perched against a solid wall, giving the disgruntled Goblin King a look before she smiled at Worm.

"Lost again, eh?" the Worm said, doing his best to ignore the angry looking Goblin King.

"'Fraid so, Worm," Sarah huffed, crossing her flannelled arms over her body. She was rather cold. Even though the Labyrinth was practically in a desert environment, the sun was going down and the chilling cold was setting in, "You don't know a way to the castle, do you?" she asked Worm.

"Nah," he said, like he had said so long ago, "I'm just a worm."

"You've said that before, you know," Sarah smiled, watching Jareth out the corner of her eye as he bent at the waist, picking up a rock and flinging it against the wall. With a ping it flew back and hit the ever-so-elegant Goblin King squarely in the forehead. Something ripped inside of her and she burst out laughing. Just like opening a can of jumping beans, there was no way to stop the laugh from escaping.

Jareth scowled and rubbed his forehead with a pout, which made it all the more hilarious to Sarah. Muffling her voice, Sarah turned away from Jareth and back to the worm. It didn't help that he too was also laughing.

"I hope you're not conspiring over there," Jareth drawled, "We have no need for directions."

Sarah snorted, unconvinced. "I'm pretty sure we do," she shouted, back over her shoulder. She could almost feel the look of distain coming from Jareth. "Stop giving me that look," she said, wishing she could watch as his scowl grew deeper.

"I'm not giving you any particular _look_," he said. She could hear stone ricocheting off stone; Jareth was kicking pebbles around again. The image of the pebble hitting him in the forehead came into Sarah's head again and she supressed a laugh.

"Yes, you are," she said after composing herself. She turned back to the worm, "Worm, I know you know how to get to the Castle, you gave me directions last time."

"Oh, I don't know," the Worm said, "A lot of openings, just got to look right way." He tilted his little head to the left, "Can't see so well these days, how about you come in, meet the missus and have a lovely cup of tea?"

Sarah stood, "No, thank you Worm. We really should be heading towards the Castle." Sarah stood, hands sticking out in front of her, and walked towards the wall opposite. "I'm sure the opening was around here…" Her hand went straight through the illusion. She laughed and punched the air with victory. "Found it," she called out, smug victory lining every word. Sarah didn't care how she sounded, even if it was somewhat petty. The look on Jareth's face was enough to make her want to gloat.

Discarding the loose pebbles he hand in his hand, he slowly turned on his heels to face her. "You've found what exactly?" he asked, letting the pebbles fall through his fingers and to the ground.

"An opening," she said, smiling sweetly.

"Not possible," he said, striding towards her. Outright determination and fury lined his features. He stood next to her, arm outstretched towards the opening. His hand hit rock. He smiled, "It seems, precious, that you haven't found any opening."

Sarah rolled her eyes and put her hand through the wall. It went straight through. Jareth's eyes widened and then narrowed. He harrumphed and shooed Sarah away. She took a pace back and crossed her arms. "Please, go right ahead, your Highness," she mumbled.

Jareth ignored her. He stretched out his hand and moved it cautiously towards the entrance. Sarah didn't know what he was doing, or why it was taking him so long. But she waited nevertheless.

"Not possible," he repeated, muttering under his breath. It was barely a whisper in the air, but Sarah's keen ear caught it.

Confused, she pursed her lips – curious thought burst into her mind, and her mouth opened as it formed on her tongue. Suddenly, Jareth grabbed her arm ripping it from her chest and yanked her into the opening. She jerked, her hair flying in front of her face and tripped over a misplaced stone in the path. Bare foot throbbing, her knee gave way below her and she tumbled to the ground. Hair splayed across her face as Jareth's grip remained. How ridiculous they must look; Sarah, butt pressed into the ground and Jareth bending at the waist to keep his hold on her arm. Jareth tried to help her, tried to pull her back to standing position, but his face tensed and Sarah could tell something wasn't right. Something was draining the life from the Goblin King.

Shaking the hair from her face, Sarah wiggled out of the Goblin King's grasp and moved to life herself up. She rubbed her forearm, sore from where Jareth had held her. Jareth was just immobile, staring into the space that she had just vacated with his mismatched eyes.

"Jareth," She touched him on his shoulder, "Are you alright?"

He looked like he was shaking. Sweating even. A thin glittery layer covered his forehead and he was breathing harder than before. She squeezed his arm slightly, trying to get his attention. At the touch, he breathed deeply, letting all the air out of his lungs. His appearance seemed to change; the glittery sweat layer vanished from his face and his hair even inflated. His eyes sought hers for a blurry moment. Tracing the back of her hand with his gloved one, he moved it from the top of his arm to his forearm, resting it there like he was about to escort her around the Labyrinth. Sarah's breath hitched as she felt a small, almost undetectable friction building between them. It was almost like the positive charge between a balloon and hair when it touched. Static. Pulsing.

Jareth moved to go through the opening, to the left.

The worm stopped them.

"Oh, I wouldn't go that way," he said, his bobbing little head still visible from where they were standing.

"Well, we're going to that way. This is the way," Jareth said, his pointed teeth on edge as he pulled Sarah through the hidden opening.

"I said, I wouldn't go that way," the Worm repeated again.

Jareth unheeded his warning – he had a habit of ignoring people. Sarah, however, was curious. He had said the same thing to her last time she was in the Labyrinth, he might have possibly saved her life. He might be trying to help her now.

Sarah pulled back, her head popped out around the wall. She knew she must look bodiless to the little worm before her. "Why shouldn't we go that way, Worm?" she asked.

The worm nodded, "Hm," he said, his little blue hair moving in the breeze that circulated around the Labyrinth. Jareth pulled on her arm again, she kicked him lightly in the knee. The Worm was humming away to himself.

"Worm?" Sarah called. The little worm jumped and pulled himself out of the imaginary place he been lost in. "Eh?" he said, sliding along the little patch of wall that was probably his back garden.

"Why shouldn't we go left?" Sarah asked again. Jareth was shaking behind her. She wasn't sure if it was from fury or a recurrence of his strange ailment.

"Oh," the Worm said, "You don't want to go that way. It'll lead you straight to the castle."

Sarah felt her face drop before she even understood what the Worm said. _Turning right took you straight to the damn castle…_

"But I went right last time…" Suddenly, she wanted to kill the little adorable worm. "Son of a –"

Jareth lurched his arm, pulling her back into the pathway and away from the little Worm. He tugged her along, down the long never-ending pathway. Upturned stones and gravel moved out of their way rolling inwards to the base of the decrepit, crumbling walls as if they hand minds of their own. Jareth's free hand was outstretched, fingers splayed, commanding the little hazards out of the way. His grip remained tight on her arm, like he was drawing strength from her. From what Sarah could see of his complexion, it seemed brighter. He was standing straighter too. Breathing lighter. She wondered briefly why he was bothering to move the stones, the little pieces of debris, out of their way when her scuffed foot began to throb. Then she realised, he was doing it for her. He didn't want her to fall over again. Either that, or he didn't want to pick her up again. They were already losing the sunlight. Immediately, at the thought of the Goblin King's kind gesture made her cheeks glow. She touched her cheek with her palm. It was burning. Luckily, Jareth hadn't noticed. He was too busy focusing on the path before them.

Sarah looked down at his hold. Something about it seemed so possessive. It might have been the way the leather crinkled around his fingers as his grip tightened on her wrist. It could have been the way that every so often, he would turn towards her, displaying his angular profile and high cheekbones, and catch her eyes, looking back and forth between his ever-tightening grip and her questioning gaze. Something was clogging Sarah's throat. It felt dry but heavy, like with just a look he had taken the words straight out of throat.

After a pause, she coughed and spoke, "I can't believe you don't know the way around your own labyrinth."

"I _do_ know the way," he said in that uncompromising voice of his, "It's just being difficult today."

To prove a point, he turned abruptly to the left pulling Sarah along with him. She almost tripped again. There was something about bare feet and tiny objects that made Sarah loose her balance. Well, she liked to blame it on bad-footing, but something told her it was the man in front that she found all too distracting.

"A labyrinth can be _difficult?_" she asked, "Jareth, are you sure you're okay?

Jareth carried on following whatever invisible path they were going down. "Sarah, you don't know anything of the Labyrinth you ran, do you?" he asked.

"You mean the Labyrinth I defeated," she corrected, trailing behind.

"Technicalities." He waved his hand dismissively behind him. Small rocks followed the track of his gloved hand and they sprinkled against the wall. They were travelling straight now, a rounded path blocking Sarah's vision through the pathway. The sun was setting and Sarah didn't fancy being in the Labyrinth in the dark, even if she was with its master.

"You can hardly talk," she said, jogging slightly to catch up with his long strides. They were side by side now. Jareth's hand still gripped her wrist. Their shoulders almost touched, and to any unsuspecting runner or goblin out in the Labyrinth (which Sarah knew was highly unlikely) they would have thought that she and the Goblin King were holding hands. What a sight they must be. Dishevelled girl in pyjamas and the pale, lusciously dressed King strolling side by side. But they couldn't see the dark shadows forming under the monarch's eyes or the way he held himself – like he was forcing himself to stand straight, to keep his regal stance.

"Whatever you might think, Sarah, I know my Labyrinth," he said, eyeing her, "Better than anyone. Better than your friend Hoggle back there, or that worm. But even the Labyrinth can be difficult to manoeuvre when I am not concentrating."

"So that's why you didn't just poof us into the Castle." Sarah was talking to herself mostly, figuring things out. But Jareth replied anyway.

"Travelling not only bores, but tires me also," he agreed. His eyes shifting to appraise Sarah's expression. It seemed like he didn't see anything there of note, he turned away. He continued, "But that is not the only reason."

Sarah stopped, almost breaking contact with the Goblin King., "Do I even want to know?" she asked. He tugged her gently a long and she kept in step.

"You'll find out soon enough, I'm sure." He grinned. Sarah didn't like that.

Sarah was curious, she had to admit that, but something told her she shouldn't be. That, even if the Goblin King looked tired and not his stable self, she could not trust him – not matter how weakened. They were nearing the end of the small climb now. Sarah's legs began to ache at the slow pace and steep gradient but she carried on, obviously the trip here had seized up her muscles. The sun was setting, a low yellow and orange glow covered the Labyrinth mixing perfectly with the brown, tanned walls around them. The Castle was before them, sitting in the behind the Goblin City in all of its sandstone majesty. This had definitely been short cut. They had arrived to the side of the castle, to see even more how it towered above the city and its defensive labyrinth. _If only I had known about this, it would have taken me no time to save Toby, _Sarah thought with a sign.

Jareth stopped before Sarah had noticed. He pulled her back to stand next to him. His grip moved, travelling slowly up her arm, slightly pulling up the cuff of her pyjamas exposing the soft skin of her arm. His gloved finger traced a vein, sending a lovely tingle through Sarah. _Stop it,_ she thought, _don't let him see… _His hand cupped her elbow and moved to touch her shoulder. "We are nearing the Castle," Jareth whispered into her ear, pushing back her hair from her face. Warm breath touched her neck. She stilled, totally immobile. "If you wait here," he continued, playing with the ends of her hair, "you will see something miraculous."

It was a promise.

He pointed to the top of the castle, his hand moving past her shoulder and out into the air before them, to the tower there. "Keep an eye on the pinnacle of the turret," he whispered. She could hear the grin on his face, see in her mind's eye how his pointed teeth were exposed. She licked her lips and nodded.

Before she could take her next breath, the sun set behind the castle. The last light of the waning sun gleamed off the turret, illuminating the parapet of the tower and directly into her eyes. The light was blinding, beautiful and she could not pull her eyes away, even if they watered. Jareth had been right, it was a miraculous sight. It was reflecting off something at the pinnacle of the turret, something metallic, but it gave out the brightest light Sarah had ever seen. It was almost ethereal, like a portal closing.

The light vanished as the sun moved further behind the Goblin Castle, leaving Sarah with black spots in her vision. She wavered slightly under her clouded vision, steadying herself by the remaining wall and sheltered her eyes with her hand. She squinted. Something equally shiny was coming towards them. Dust flew up in the air and a loud thumping could be heard. Sarah focused her eyes and watched as the shiny figures became clearer: a mixture of human looking men and large goblins in plated armour were coming towards them, kicking up dust with their heels as they marched. Spears and swords gleamed in the fading light.

"Who are they?" Sarah asked, peering under her hand at the approaching figures.

"The Goblin Army," Jareth said plainly. Sarah felt her gut drop. "I told you we were expected." Jareth moved from behind Sarah, taking her hand and placing his lips to hers. "Well," he said standing, "_You_ were expected…"

Sarah watched the army getting closer with trepidation. She moved back. A stone went into the ball of her feet. "Jareth, what did you do!?"

Jareth grinned, widely. "I didn't do anything, precious. The Labyrinth informed them of your presence as soon as you set foot in the Underground." He tutted, "I'm surprised it took them this long…but then, they always have been rather tardy."

Sarah stared at him with wide disbelieving eyes. She felt cornered. Pushed against a proverbial corner with nowhere to go. "Jareth…" she stumbled out watching as the shiny armour of the Goblin Army came into view. "Jareth! Why are they here?" she called, ripping away her eye from the mass of soldiers. He was smirking, one side of his lips higher than the other. It wasn't a comforting smile.

"Why, to arrest you, my dear." Sarah's mouth flew open and her hand reached out to slap Jareth. Predictably, he caught it with one fine swoop. Jareth clicked his tongue, "I don't think hitting their monarch will put you in good stead."

"This wasn't what I agreed," Sarah said, gritting her teeth at Jareth's hold.

"Oh, Sarah," he said, "You accepted the price – I haven't hurt your friends, or your brother. Your own fate was never mentioned."

"You said no one would be hurt!"

"And they won't." With that Jareth smirked one last smirk and vanished in a puff of glitter.

Sarah stared in disbelief. _He did not just leave me here…! _The thunder of feet was drawing nearer – they were too close to run. Jareth knew where she was and Sarah was sure that she could never manage the Labyrinth again. Not after it alerted the army of her arrival! Sarah resigned herself, rolling up the flannelled sleeves, readying for the confrontation. Jareth – she knew was probably watching – would not see her quiver.

The army approached, all metal and cavalry. Goblins and men stood in line, blocking the path to the Castle. Some snarled, others just stared. Each were regimented in their own way – and equally as frightening. Sarah gulped. Perhaps her courage was wilting like a new budding flower caught in a winter's storm.

One male leaped off a strange looking horse and bounded to the ground with grace. His skin was the shade of sea-foam, a hint of blue and green mingling within his complexion. His armour gleamed brighter than the other, meticulous care had obviously been taken. Long pale blonde hair showered his shoulders and back like oncoming waves. Everything about him screamed of the elements. Sarah took a long look of him as she walked towards her. There was something different about his one – his armour. It was not only of different shape, but material too. He was obviously of higher rank that his foot soldiers.

When he spoke, it was like the sea calling her, "Sarah Williams, I am Dathan, acting-commander of the Goblin Army. It is my duty to the Realm, and to the King of the Goblins, to arrest you for treason. You will be taken to the dungeons under supervision and at first light, you will be sentence to a penalty of death. Are you clear in this?"

_No one would get hurt, eh? _Sarah felt so cheated that she almost wanted to laugh. Instead she sighed, thinking how nice it would be to punch that smug, deceitful Goblin King in the face.

"Bastard."

* * *

**A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I'm not sure how much I will be able to write this weekend, as I'm sadly away from my lovely computer. So if I get anything done this week on the next chapter, then I'll hopefully post it (but don't get your hopes up too much! I wouldn't want to let you lovely guys down). So with any luck I'll be posting sometime next week, but it might be much later than Monday or Tuesday. Please forgive me. I would really just like to thank you guys for the amazing support for this story, the heart-warming reviews, and followers – you guys keep me writing. So thank you so much! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please review, follow, and everything else! Until next time, dynamic readers… :D**


	10. Kingdom Come

"_**Ambrocious, unlock this door!" **_

The infirmary wing was situated in the left-hand wing of the castle. It had been a 'war measure' inflicted upon Jareth and his castle by the leaders of the Realm for the upcoming war. Customary measure, they said. Oh, goodie. In fact, was a waste of time. The kingdom already had its own adequate medical facilities spread out around the land. Therefore, a new medical wing in the castle was laughable, comical even. Jareth knew the real reason why the Realm wanted the new medical wing – to dry up the Goblin Kingdom's funds. So that Jareth couldn't raise his own army. Well, a bigger army that he had now, that is. Thus, the medical wing was built and the Realm armies moved in as 'reinforcements'. The construction had taken out a whole floor full of servant's quarters and guest rooms. Jareth wouldn't have minded, if it weren't for the fact that now he had a hundred and twenty unhoused servants left wanting. What particularly annoyed it was the fact that he had not been compensated for such a loss to his staff, nor was he likely to be. The Realm held their purse strings tight when it came to fiscal matters. Now, Jareth had homeless servants sleeping in the corridors of his palace, most likely wondering around at night, and making the place seem untidy. And well, that had always been the goblins court's job. They weren't particularly happy about sharing their place with servants. Goblins could be terribly snobbish sometimes.

So, Jareth had been left with an emergency hospital wing to fund, a menagerie of servants to house and a group of unhappy goblins to please. Not to mention, the troublesome woman who was currently awaiting execution.

All of that, however, could wait.

Jareth had materialised not far from the left wing. The entirety of his chest felt like it was tearing away from him. With a limp arm slung around his waist, he moved towards the blasted infirmary. It was the last place he wanted to go, but the slicing pain made him move towards it. He clicked his way to the medical hall, boots tapping against the stone walls as he went, and pushed open the large wooden doors with force. Of course, the place was practically empty. A goblin nurse shrieked slightly at the sight of the King and waggled her way out of the room. The only other person in the large domed room was the person Jareth needed to see.

"Grannus!" Jareth shouted, not caring if the man was a foot away from him. Unlike the rest of his subjects, Grannus didn't shrink away from the boisterous monarch, but instead turned to welcome him.

"Welcome, my King. How may I help you today?" Grannus said with the warmth of a bubbling, thermal spring. Everything that spilled from the physician's mouth had always been soothing, but like a healing waters Jareth associated him with, he knew one thing: such waters could be slippery, turbulent and changeable.

Much the same applied to Grannus.

"Ever so welcoming, Grannus," Jareth slurred, holding onto the unoccupied wooden cot in front of him. Grannus smiled, close mouthed, his lips stretching over teeth like sun-worn leather. "You know why I'm here."

With that Grannus nodded curtly, grabbed a box of vials and instruments from the desk beside him and wandered casually over to Jareth's side. His medical robes trailed along the ground. "Sit," he commanded. Jareth scowled, but sat down on the neatly made cot anyway. Grannus had been part of the customary war measures. He had arrived, garbed in the cream embroider robe he wore now, full of pomp, overzealous about his profession and prickly to boot. Since his arrival, he had been a constant thorn in Jareth's ever aching side. He had hoped that the man would not be a success. Goblins were suspicious by nature and new comers were treated with the greatest uncertainty. Unfortunately for the Jareth, however, Grannus had been a well-received within the Kingdom. After saving a newly fledged Goblin from a particularly bad chicken accident, he had been named a hero and a brilliant physician. The Goblins loved him.

It was really enough to make you sick, the way they cooed over him.

Grannus stood before Jareth, waiting. Jareth rolled his eyes. "What are you waiting for, Grannus. Give me the damn vial."

Jareth snatched for the instruments in Grannus's hands. But he was weak, his arms failed him and they slumped to the side. He managed to grunt, annoyed at his subject. "Give it to me. Now."

Grannus stood there, unmoving. Looking down at his king with his skin-bleached skin and fiery hair like he was a petulant infant. "I must see the wounds, You Highness, otherwise I cannot recommend a dose." It was an accent that was not familiar in the Goblin Kingdom, lyrical and finely tuned.

"Damn you. Of course you can, just give me the same." Jareth snorted. The action made him loose his breath, and he leaned against the cot side for support. He held out one gloved hand towards Grannus.

Grannus turned away, placing his equipment on the cot-side table. He stooped slightly, hands reaching out, ready to examine Jareth. He waited for Jareth to nod, giving him right away to touch him, and then placed his hands on each side of Jareth's face. He scanned his bloodshot eyes, the way his hair had become limp and the overall paleness of his skin. "This will not do," he said finally. Then he nodded, "If you will." He indicated to Jareth's side and turned to give the king some privacy.

This is truly the bit Jareth hated the most. On a regular day, he avoided looking at his mangled body as much as he could. Concealing it from the world and sometimes even himself. If he felt particularly ill, he could always project a healthy image to his court. They would see the spry monarch, not the defeated man. Sometimes the illusions were so good, Jareth could almost fool himself. However, when the pain became unbearable, such as now, he had no choice but to acknowledge it. To confront the crippling bond that had formed as soon as Sarah rejected him. When she had cast him away and won. It had been a game of high stakes, not just for Sarah, but for Jareth too. If he lost, not only did he lose something mighty precious to him but he would also become this: a husk of his former self. The bond would search inwardly to fulfil its purpose, until there was nothing more to Jareth than a fleshy embodiment of eternal pain. The bond would peck at him, just as vultures would pick at a corpse, eternally until a dried out skeleton remained.

With a heavy groan, Jareth began to undress his top half. Soon, his cloak and waistcoat were on the floor. All that remained was his light undershirt. And that would remain. Even with the shirt on, Grannus could see the grey lacerations traveling up Jareth's torso.

Grannus turned back to him and began to roll up his shirt to see the gaping, blackened wound that splayed across his chest. Jareth knew what he would see there. Both of them had seen it many times before. Just below his ribs was a blackened jagged wound, gaping and twisting like it had a mind of its own. In fact, it did. But this time, it bond lay dormant. Usually, it only pulsated and twisted when Jareth was alone. Almost sensing another presence, it stopped tightening giving Jareth room to breathe comfortably. Grannus murmured something incoherently as she prodded and poked at the fleshy grey lines that sprouted out from the wounds, coiling around his entire body like the roots of a tree. They all followed the same direction, spreading out from the wound in an anticlockwise motion. Jareth knew it had gotten worse. Knew that what Grannus was seeing now was far more horrific than what he had seen a month past. The tendrils had managed to make their way Jareth's collarbone and possibly down the front of his biceps. Luckily, they hadn't travelled to his all too visible hands yet. They had a tendency of changing in the middle of the night and the next morning, it would be like Jareth was staring at a completely different pattern.

Jareth had had enough of Grannus examining him, humming with interest as his warm fingers prodded his side, pinching the bruised skin. "Enough," Jareth said, pulling down his cotton shirt.

Grannus stepped back with a nod and began to search through his bundle. His back was turned slightly away from Jareth as he spoke, "Your Majesty, I must ask this of you again –"

"I'm sure you must…" Jareth drawled, sucking in a drag of breath as he stood and began to tuck in his shirt.

Grannus continued, "Are you in fact sure this is iron poisoning, not something more?" Grannus eyed Jareth with a speculative stare. Jareth's gaze never wavered from that far too inquisitive look. Of course, he could and never would tell Grannus the truth. Even if he was administering him with sedatives and healing elixirs. No, the bonding could never be fixed by crushed up roots and leaves, even with a hint of magic to make them stick. Jareth knew the cure, but it was forever out of his grasp. She would never accept. He knew that for certain.

Jareth chose his words carefully, "What else could it be?"

Grannus sighed and began mixing powers together, "I do not know. If it is truly a case of iron poisoning, the pain should have lessened by now. Especially with doses I'm administrating. That, combined with your magical abilities should have cure it." He coughed, eyeing Jareth again, "Any lesser fae would have perished at the amount of iron coursing through their veins, but not you."

"Indeed," Jareth said, folding the rest of his garments over his arm. He was in too much pain to even consider putting them back on. Decency be damned!

"You must be careful, my King," Grannus said, pouring the green powder into a separate vial and adding some clumpy-looking liquid. "If the court find out–"

"If the court finds out, Grannus, then you have not done your duty. You will have betrayed your king." Jareth interjected, "I think you know, even for a newcomer to the kingdom, that I am not the most tolerant man when it comes to such matters." Jareth grinned, "Do we understand each other?"

Grannus didn't flinch. He handed Jareth the vial of mint green cream and nodded, "I think we are, Your Majesty."

Before Grannus could even blink, Jareth vanished leaving a trail of dark grey powder on the floor around his robe. With a roll of the eyes, Grannus flicked the despicable glitter from his robes and called an orderly to clean it.

Jareth rematerialized in his chambers. The windows were slung open and a soft breeze drifted in from outside. It was cool in the room, the curtain tails billowed out across the hard stone flooring. Jareth however, was feverish. His cheeks were burning, his brow was covered in a smooth coating of sweat and his hair felt decidedly flat. Shoving his garments onto the neatly made bed, Jareth collapsed in the middle of the chamber, falling onto his side. Kicking out his legs, he began breathing heavily and held his side. Black spots appeared around his vision again as he stared at the beamed ceiling. One weak hand reached out, feeling around for Grannus's vial. Finger nails hit stone, splaying out, only to come back hopeless. The last vestige of strength Jareth had he had used to mock Grannus. How dare undermine his King…How dare he think…

Jareth reached for the vial again, groaning as pain lashed through him. He was finding it difficult to breath. His hands searched, until finally, his left hand grasped the little vial. Jareth didn't want to move, to inflict further pain, but he knew he needed to apply the ointment. Struggling for strength and breath, Jareth hunched himself over and crawled towards the bed post. There, he propped himself up and rolled up his shirt again. With shaky hands, he opened the vial and let the clumpy liquid pour onto his free hand. Soon, he was rubbing the liquid into his swollen, bruised skin. It began to sooth. He tried to avoid looking at the ink stain that marked and scarred his flesh, but all no matter where he looked, he saw his reflection staring back at him. _Too vain for your own good_, he thought as he applied more ointment and worked it into the finer lines of watered down ink spread out across his body.

When the bottle was empty, Jareth let it fall from his hand and roll across the stone floor. His head fell back against the smooth wooden bedpost and he breathed deeply. Silence encompassed the room and he could feel the pain seeping out of him like a blood flowing freely from a vein. The sensation felt good, however it only numbed the pain for a few hours. Sometimes a day if he was lucky. However, with the amount of treatment he had undergone, Jareth was doubtful it would last two hours. No, this felt nothing like it had when he had touched Sarah. Then, it seemed like the pain had only been a fragment of his imagination. That the scare which marred his pale body was a simple illusion, meant to cloud his mobility.

If only he could touch her again.

Of course, no one had told Jareth of Sarah's presence in the Underground. Many knew of the symbiotic relationship the Labyrinth and its king shared. It was part and parcel of the Goblin Kingdom, therefore they would expect Jareth to be the first one to know of her presence. Their tardiness did not do them credit, but their actions did: she was in the dungeons awaiting execution.

_Goodie. _

* * *

The Goblin dungeons were exactly as Sarah had expected them to be: grim.

_Could be worse, _Sarah thought, _it could be the Oubliette. _

Three moss covered walls and one large barred grate separated her from the outside world. More importantly, they separated her from the Goblin King. And his neck. If she could, Sarah would certainly not hesitate in strangling the man. What was his game, putting her in here and threatening execution?

Sarah had decided after that bunched up military commando had thrown her in here that she was decidedly not going to executed at first light. That was not happening. Sarah's mind couldn't even being to contemplate what death actually meant, so she had decided it was better to live in denial. Blissfully denying her imminent death had at least made Sarah calm down. She had been perfectly fine when the goblin soldiers had manhandled her, but it was the handcuffs that sent Sarah into a fury. She refused to wear them, scuttled around as they tried to restrain her. Admittedly, it had been a hard fight. Thirty goblin warriors against one twenty-five year old women, who had little to none combat training, had levelled out the playing field against Sarah. Soon, the handcuffs were chafing her wrists and she was rattling chains as she walked. Sarah hardly thought this kind of treatment was necessary – nor did the commander and chief, Dathan. As they marched back to the Castle, and to her doom, Dathan kept giving Sarah pitying looks down from his strange, alien looking horse. Yes, he was still a jumped up commando without a buzz cut, but even he could tell Sarah was hardly a threat to the Goblin National Security. So that's why she was somewhat grateful to him, when they reached the cell she was now confined in, that he allowed her to be released from the cold bindings.

The most humiliating thing, apart from having a military guard surrounding Sarah, was the walk to the castle. Every citizen within the Goblin city had watched with big, curious eyes as the guards escorted her through the courtyard. Many were confused, others whispered. Obviously, the news of her arrival had spread throughout the kingdom. She didn't know if that having her paraded through the streets with a platoon of Goblin warriors was part of Jareth's plan, but it was sure starting up a ruckus. Sarah could hear her name being muttered around the place, within the crowds of people gathering around. At first, she was afraid they would attack. After all, the last time Sarah had been in the Goblin City, she had battled with the army and broke most of it. She might not know how the Underground worked, but in the Upperground, things like that were never forgotten. However, by the time they had reached the castle entrance, Sarah had realised that the look on the people's faces were not ones of anger, but of awe. Confusing.

Even inside the castle, many within the Goblin court, some in their finery and others looking downright bedraggled, had gasped and murmured when they caught a glimpse of Sarah. Under their breath, Sarah could hear the words, "She's back" and "It's Sarah Williams" being spoken. Other such mumblings, Sarah couldn't understand. She assumed they were in Goblin tongue. However, each utterance made her feel more and more uncomfortable. How did these people know about her? Had her time in the Labyrinth caused such an effect? Being surrounded by armour soldiers didn't give Sarah much of a viewpoint when it came to seeing the crowds around her, but there was one particular person whom Sarah wanted to see. Jareth.

She had expected him to be there, gloating over her. But he wasn't. And his absence was very much noted. Not only by her, but also the crowds. Along with her name, there were mentions of their king, his feelings and most importantly, what he was going to do to her. Execution, of course, had been mentioned.

Soon, Sarah was thrust into a small, cramped stairwell away from the onlookers and pushed down into the recesses of the castle dungeons. They looked like your A-typical dungeon; dank, bleak and where hopes came to die. Sarah was thrust into a cell at the end of stone passageway. "A private one, just for her ladyship," a wart-covered Goblin had said, as he unceremoniously pushed her into the cubbyhole of a cell. _That_ statement confused her to no ends. And, then, just as soon as they arrived, the Goblin soldiers left, leaving Sarah in a dank, cold, mouldy prison cell without water or food. There was, however, a small dish in the corner of the dungeon. Sarah had accidently kicked it when they had thrown her in here and watched, revolted, as the discoloured contents spilled out onto the straw covered floor. If it was any guess, that would be her toilet for the foreseeable future. Sarah didn't know how much time had passed. There was no light within the dungeons to even guess the hour. But she could feel the night creeping upon her as her eyes grew heavy and head began to ache. There was a little canopy bed laid out at the back of the cell. It was likely four footsteps away, but the rancid water had managed to backsplash across the straw filled mattress making it look unappealing place to sleep. Instead, Sarah stood, hugging her body with her flannelled arms and rubbing her cold toes against the smooth, downy fabric on her legs to keep them warm.

The next thing she knew, there was a change in the guards. Sarah hadn't even known there were goblins guarding her until she saw their small, armoured frames trek, huffing and puffing, back up the stairs and into the square of light that greeted them. The next guard was sure to come back down. She expected two, but in fact, there was only one. A small, bushy tailed fox with a feather in his hat and all too familiar looking whiskers. Sir Didymus.

He was whistling a happy tune as he bounced down the narrow steps to stand at his post. His back was turned to her, probably not expecting anyone to guard to be in the dungeons. From what Sarah could see, it didn't look like the place was used that often.

Sarah felt like a block of ice, but she made her way forward towards the opening grate and called out, "Sir Didymus?" When she spoke, it didn't sound like it. Her voice was rough and gritty like she had accidently swallowed sand. And her throat burned for a sip of water.

With a jump, his little feather bouncing in the air, he turned. His little fox face fell when he saw her, trapped behind the dungeon bars. "Lady Sarah, is that you?"

Sarah's hands were gripping tight to the grate. The pressure points on her knuckles grew white from the force of it. She bent slightly to look at Sir Didymus, "Yes, it's me."

Didymus came closer, "Oh, dear, my lady. How can this be?" His eyes searched her cell for some sort of answer. Sarah was the one who gave him it.

"Jareth," she said, scorn dripping from her mouth, "He tricked me. I knew I shouldn't have agreed." She signed, her hands falling loose at her sides, "But I… I thought he would hurt you, my friends, even my family. And I…I _couldn't _let that happen." Sarah sighed, placing her forehead against the cool grate. "I'm such a fool."

"Oh dear," he said, fighting slightly, "I must say, as royal knight, I am sworn to uphold honour to the King, yet, I do think you're right in this one. He had duped you, and very badly too."

Sarah crumpled onto the floor. She didn't even care about how the stagnant water began to seep into her trouser leg. Her head rested against the grate, her chin downcast towards the muddied stones beneath her. Sir Didymus touched her chin with his paw through an opening in the grate and tilted her chin to face him. His fox eyes stared back at her through the darkness. "My lady Sarah, you are no fool," he said with softness in his voice, "From what I have seen, I know you would have not acted out of foolishness, but out of courage." He grinned, "I am a _knight_ after all; I know courage when I see it."

"You're forgetting something," Sarah said, a hint of a smile on her lips. Sir Didymus tilted his head to the side, "You are loyal knight, and once, the faithful Guardian of the Bridge, who helped a young girl save her brother and defeat the Goblin King!" She had whispered it with such authority and spirit, that Sir Didymus's chest filled with pride.

"Hm," Didymus said, his paw touching his chin, "You are correct, Lady Sarah." And with that, he walked away. Something dropped inside of Sarah as she watched her little friend retreat away from her. She closed her eyes to the darkness and let a wave of helplessness wash over her. _There is no way out of this, is there?_

The jangle of something metallic pulled Sarah out of her stupor. _Keys._

Sir Didymus stood before her, a large circle of keys in his paw, "You are always right Lady Sarah, I helped you once before. I shall help you now."

Sarah stood, shocked and confused by her friends act against the King, "But what about the Goblin King?"

Sir Didymus opened the gate with a swing and held it open for Sarah. "Sometimes, I do think that Hoggle is correct in his assumption of the King; he's an unmitigated ass."

* * *

**A/N: I was gone longer than expected. Sorry about the wait. Enjoy the new chapter! (FYI: This chapter does need some revision - it's more of a filler)  
**


	11. The Drowned Girl

"_**The Battle is behind us!"**_

The door before them was small, plain and bolted.

Sir Didymus huffed at the inconvenience and began trying the lock. "Are you there, Ambrocious?" He jiggled at the handle, trying to open the lock. "Ambrocious!" he called, "You coward, where are you!? Open this door!" He pulled at the handle again. It didn't budge.

Sarah was already panicking internally. The walls seemed too close here, like they were crowding around her telling her to get back into the cell. Orange fire-light flickered back and forth in the narrow stone stairwell and onto Sarah's pale, exhausted face. Sir Didymus was still calling out to Ambrocious to open the door. It was really no use. Although Sarah had seen them fight gallantly in the Goblin City, she knew that Ambrocious tended to hide rather than face confrontation. He was the most conscientious noble steed she had ever met, and was ever likely to meet.

From behind the solid, immovable door, she could hear Ambrocious whine and cower. No doubt he was lying on the ground covering his floppy ears with his paws, too terrified to open the door. Sarah gently pushed Sir Didymus aside and began to chant Ambrocious's name herself. "Please open the door, Ambrocious. We need your help." Her fist hit the door with a thud, three times. Nothing.

Sarah turned to Sir Didymus. "Why is it locked from the outside anyway? It makes no sense."

"Ah-ha," Didymus said with glee, turning to her and away from the door. His sabre swing happily about him as he explained. "You see, it's locked from the outside so that if a prison was likely to escape from their cell, and of course, knock out – or even, heaven forbid, kill the guard, they could not escape fully, but instead be trapped inside, unable to escape."

Sarah huffed as she tried to push against the door with all of her weight, "Who ever thought of that?" The door was unrelenting. She shouted for Ambrocious again, afraid that the noble steed had went off, in search for nibbles. She pushed again at the door, until finally she slumped down the floor. Her flannelled bottoms sinking onto the cold, slimy stairs. "You'd think they'd put in a secret exit or something. Just in case."

Sir Didymus nodded profusely, "Oh yes."

Sarah turned to Didymus, mouth slackening. "You mean they did put a secret exit in the dungeons?"

"Yes, by that pillar just over there." He pointed with his sabre to the moss covered column that stood behind them, just outside Sarah's previous occupied cell. Sir Didymus went on, "If you press the stone three times, in an anti-clockwise motion, the pillar opens up and reveals a hidden passageway that leads you directly to the kitchens."

Sarah stared, agape. She shifted her vision to a thick pillar that stood the side of the stone wall, blending well into the foundations. It didn't look big enough to hold a tunnel inside; it could probably hold one at a time but no more. "Didymus, how do you know this?"

Sir Didymus laughed, "Well, actually, Sarah, I constructed it." He had said it with pride. "Having one exit in a dungeon sounded absolutely preposterous to me. I mean what if the King was trapped in here. He does often visit." He grinned as much as a fox could grin and wrinkled his nose as he tapped the side of his small, fury head. "Keen mind, Sarah. I know how these criminal minds work, you see!"

If it had been anyone else, Sarah might have walloped them. But instead, she jumped to her feet and kiss Sir Didymus twice on the on his fur forehead. "You deserve much more than two kisses," she said, running down the steps and toward the pillar, "Come on, show me how this works."

Sarah's foot had just reached the bottom step when the air in her lungs ceased and the door to the dungeon creaked open. Before she could do anything, Sir Didymus was at her side, pulling and pushing the rocks in an anticlockwise motions. The door had not yet squeaked open when the pillar wall broke away, revealing a very small, almost claustrophobic, tunnel. It barely held Sarah. Her head scraped of rounded ceiling as Sir Didymus tapped her on the leg and urged her inside.

"What about you?" she whispered as he began to turn the rocks back in the opposite direction. Already there were voices being carried on the wind; the change in guard was approaching.

"I shall distract them, my lady," he said, "Have no fear. All shall be well. Follow the tunnel, it will take you to up the kitchens and into the Labyrinth. Be brave, Lady Sarah."

The wall began to close, Sir Didymus shouted something quickly which sounded like "Whatever you do: don't go left"

With that, the wall shut and Sarah was left in the dark tube. Muffled voices could be heard from inside the walls. She picked out the unfamiliar muffled voice of a guard. "Where is the prisoner?" she heard them ask. It sounded like she was underwater – the waving, almost coherent noises you could patch together while being submerges. Next, the familiar voice of Sir Didymus mumbled, "By my soul, was there meant to be somebody in there?"

She smiled. If it was one thing Sir Didymus was good at., it was playing the dupe. Before they could find her lurking in the pitch blackness of the escape tunnel, Sarah raced away. She knew Sir Didymus would be fine; they would not suspect him. After all, his only indiscretion had been a decade ago. Once out of a lifetimes service surely didn't place him high on the list of suspicion. Well, she hoped not. Sarah didn't know what would happen if anything truly did happen to her friend. She could not think about that right now. Certainly his life would be in danger if they found her lurking in the secret tunnels. He would be highly suspicious of treason then, she was sure.

The tunnels were very much like the dungeons. She might have been out of that place, but the scenery had hardly changed. In fact, it was probably worse. Sarah wondered if these tunnels had been connected to the tunnels outside the Oubliette. They certainly had the same feel: dusty, dark and never-ending. If somewhat smaller. Sarah continued on, her feet squelching as she went. What was on the floor, seeping through her toes didn't bare thinking about. She just needed to get out of the castle and back into the Labyrinth, then she would find her way back. Back home to Toby.

_Toby. _Oh, no. She hadn't even given him a thought since arriving in the Underground. Sarah suddenly felt guilty and hollow. How could she ever forget to think about her brother? Admittedly, she had annoyed, arrested and facing death since she got here. But surely she could have spared a thought for her brother. Did they know she was gone? How long had it been in the Upperworld since she took the orb in her hand? Sarah didn't know, and didn't know to find out. The only certain way was to go back home. She thought of the little boy who needed her and thought of how worried he would be when he found out she had been gone. Not only that, but how she had broken her promise to him. And her father. _She wasn't leaving anytime soon. _

Of course, they had never expected it be this way. Neither did Sarah, to be honest. Being taken by the Goblin King was a once in a lifetime (more than a lifetime) event and Sarah had the pleasure of doing it twice. Lucky her.

Both times he had tried to kill her too. This time it had been the executioners block, or noose, or however they did it in the Goblin Kingdom. Death by glitter? Last time, it had been in the tunnels…with the cleaners.

Sarah looked around the narrow, unending tunnel behind her and in front. Sarah hadn't thought about that: what if the cleaners were still in use? Could Jareth know she would try and escape?

Sarah remembered that part of the labyrinthine adventure all too well; the way Jareth had leaned against the tunnel wall, standing over her, those damn mismatched eyes piercing into her equally dull ones. _So Sarah, how are you enjoying my labyrinth? _

"It's still a piece of cake, Jareth," Sarah muttered under her breath.

Oh, and of course, after that he unleashed the cleaners. Running down that tunnel with Hoggle by her side had been one of Sarah's most terrifying moments in the Labyrinth. And the most confusing. She wasn't sure, how at fifteen she had been able to deal with all of her conflicting emotions. Maybe, they hadn't been as strong then. No, that was a lie. They had been, if not stronger and raw. Jareth had toyed with her emotions – what he thought was her weakness – in order to confuse and manipulate her. Just like the book she had recited, that kind of love could be pushed aside; easily forgotten about when her brother's fate was up to Sarah, and her alone. The mere presence of the Goblin King, had then unsettled her, but now, it drove her insane. Sarah could not stand being near him, right now. However, she could admit that since her return from the Underground, life had been far duller than she had anticipated. Of course, she had changed her attitude towards Toby and Irene after coming back, but still as the weeks, then months and then eventually years went by she saw nothing as exciting in the mundane world than what she had found down here. A thought which had plagued her for a decade – all thanks to that smug Goblin King. She blamed her infatuation with Underground on why her life in the Upperworld failed miserably. She hadn't had a steady job in over five years. Her gig with the acting troop back home was unpaid, undervalued and undeserved. The thought of the play and Rasheed popped into her mind, but the close surrounds of the tunnel and the muddy goo that was beneath her toes as she walked pushed that thought out of her mind completely. Ultimately, her experience in here had tainted the world above. And her meeting Jareth had tainted all Upperworld.

Not that she would ever express it to him.

Dates had never succeeded. Even at twenty five, she could only ever admit to having one successful relationship – and that had been with Rasheed when she was seventeen. And that wasn't even a real relationship; neither one of them had feelings for each other. They didn't love each other that way. It was different – peer pressure and High school. That was enough to explain the downfall in their relationship. They had only ever been friends. Only kissed and fumbled around.

Sarah groaned, wondering why, at this very inconvenient moment, her mind had decided to catalogue her sexual experiences now. Of all times. But the true was, even if Sarah was beyond admitting it to herself. There had always been sometime stopping her: the Labyrinth.

Only Sarah didn't know how far that influence extended.

The tunnels were getting smaller with each footstep Sarah took. Sir Didymus had mentioned that they were built for Jareth, as an escape route. Sarah was pretty sure that Sir Didymus had miscalculated Jareth's size. They certainly weren't suited to him; instead they were more suited to Didymus's stature. By the time she saw a faint glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, Sarah was practically on her knees. Her hair had fallen from her shoulders and was dipping into the gunge around her arms. Crawling, the muddy substance made an unsettling sucking sound, as if it was pulling Sarah deeper and deeper into its vacuous depths.

Sarah didn't know these tunnels or what traps could be laid in them. She decided not to stick around for long enough to find out. The light was shimmer still; faintly, but it was there. She crawled towards it, her back stiffening and aching to be stretched, when she fell and landed in a pool of what she could only describe as black tar. The one tunnel had split in two: one veering left and the other right. The tunnel she had just fell out of cut in between the two and dropped off, as if it had been drilled directly into the centre of the wall. Maybe it had. Didymus had not gone into depths on how he constructed the passageway.

Where was she now then? Sarah stood from the messy substance, watching as it clung to her arms and her poor, miserably wrecked pyjamas.

"Dammit, these were my favourites," Sarah muttered as she pulled at the oozing substance away from her. Below her it bubbled and boiled. For an instant, she froze. Oh god. She raised her goo covered hand to her mouth and sniffed: no smell. Thank god. It would not do now to fall into a tributary of the Bog of Eternal Stench. If Jareth or the guards needed to find her, all they would have to do was sniff.

Relieved, Sarah tried to pull her legs out from the black substance. Her foot moved and her leg with it, but her flannelled bottoms did not. The left leg stayed as she pulled away, and the waist band slide down. "Whoa," Sarah halted, holding tightly to the band, "You're not going anywhere." She pulled at it again, resting her weight on her right leg and using all of her force to get the trouser leg out. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pulled hard. Something ripped and gave. Looking down with a presumptive, triumphant smile on her lips, Sarah saw that not only was her trouser leg still in the tar, but she had ripped away the waist band. She held onto it limply, knowing what would come next. She lost her balance and fell sideways into the black goo again.

"You have got to be kidding me?!" Sarah murmured, surveying the mess around her. One bare, but dirt leg peeped out of the ruined trouser leg. The other was completely submerged. Thanks to small miracles, her top was somewhat saved. Using her arms as a lever, she pulled her right leg from out of the devilish mud and wrestled with regaining her trousers. It was a struggle that was mostly witnessed around Christmas time, when two festival goers fought and quarrelled over the last turkey. The pulling and grunting was all the same, but this time, it was Sarah versus Evil Slim.

Evil Slim unfortunately won. And took her trousers as a trophy.

Trouserless and cold, Sarah tugged at the hem of her flannelled shirt to cover herself, bum and all, and proceeded to the crossroads in the tunnels. Thank god for small mercies: she was wearing underwear. Her bare legs prickled and goose bumped at the cold air that was wafting from the left hand tunnel. _Air, that means outside_, Sarah thought, as she took a step towards the left hand tunnel. Something niggled at the back of her mind: Sir Didymus.

_Don't turn left._

Tutting at the distracting tunnel, with a wag of her finger, Sarah spun around and took the right hand passage. She honestly didn't know what she looked like: right now she didn't really care. Not in the tunnels anyway. Sarah had thought it strange that no one had thought to look for her in here. Did only Sir Didymus know about the tunnel? It could have been a Kingdom secret, Sarah supposed. If everyone knew about the tunnels, then there would be no need for a dungeon really. Everyone would just leave this way. It wasn't like the guards hadn't had the chance to catch up or nab her. She had just been wrestling with Evil Slim for about twenty minutes. Surely, they would have heard and caught her? Or even watched on in amusement as she struggled to free her bottoms. It must have been a sight.

Sarah carried on regardless, every so often taking a surreptitiously glance around her shoulder to see if anyone approached. No one did. And she was glad of it. The tunnel was bigger here and she thought, directly under the castle. Sarah hadn't guessed it when she was crawling in the previous tunnel, but she had probably been crawling upwards, towards the foundations of the castle. That's what she thought she was in now. The tunnels here were just as disused as the previous one. However, they had no Evil Slime to contend with, nor did they make her back ache. They were high with rounded brick and surprisingly well lit. Sarah didn't know much about castles, but she thought that perhaps these pathways ran under the entire castle, perhaps as an old evacuation route from the early days of the castle, in the likelihood of a siege. She wondered if these tunnels also extended out into the Labyrinth…what was it that Didymus had said – they will take you to the kitchens and out into the Labyrinth. So perhaps not. The tunnel curved slightly to the right, as if following a large circular path. Sarah followed it, her toes cold on stone, while avoiding the large spider webs that hung from its curved roof. Suddenly, the tunnel stopped. A brick wall was straight ahead and nothing more. Sarah ran to the wall, her feet padding on the stone floor.

"No, no, this can't be," she said, as she traced the bricks with her hand. She could not be trapped. She had turned right, not left. She had followed every instruction to the letting. Sarah wanted to break down, to weep, but exhaustion and fatigue was taking over. She needed the fresh air. Her hands thumped down on the wall, making loose dust fall onto the top of her head. Hands trembling, she flung them at the wall. One of them went through it. Sarah stared in disbelief. And then she laughed, heartily. She pushed her hand through the wall again. And again. Just to check. It was another trick.

_Just like the Labyrinth_. Sarah smiled at the thought and pushed away from the wall, tracing her hand around the entrance and stepped through. Mortar crumbled beneath her touch as she felt her way aroumd the walls. She smiled all the way through. When she left, there before her was a narrow spiral staircase, with no opening. Interesting.

Not disheartened, Sarah climbed the turning staircase until she reached the top. She stood, her legs standing on separate steps, bent as she examined the ceiling. It was even dustier up here than she thought. She ran her hands over the roof, coughing as breathed in errant dust. She felt a small bump in the stone. Inspecting it, she found a hole in the ceiling. Just big enough for a hand. She gripped it, and pushed. Surprisingly, the stone was light. She balanced it behind her neck and on her shoulder and slide the slab along until there was a big enough gap for Sarah to slide up into. Bracing herself, she slide her arms in first and then pulled the rest of her body up and out of the tunnels.

Immediately she was hit by the smell of baked goods and pastries. Sarah's eyes were covered in dust, but already she knew she had startled someone – or, as it turned out, many people. There was an audible hush and then a sudden mumbling all around her. She pushed the dust from her eyes and then glanced around the room before her. Didymus was right, it was the kitchens. Large wooden tables covered with ingredients and flour took up most of the space. The hearth was ablaze and would have made the room sweltering, if it wasn't for the open windows and door that looked out onto the gardens…and Labyrinth. Sarah knew she needed to leave, and quickly. However, most of the kitchen staff were here, blocking the most obvious exit. They had stopped their work to stare at her. Their mouth gaping like limp fish. Many froze, previous actions still stamped on their stone-like bodies. Mumbled ensued again. Her appalling appearance had not gone unnoticed. Some giggled, others tittered. One even fainted. Surely the sight of her bare legs was not that frightening?

Gingerly, Sarah smiled and gave a little wave. Shocked faces and stares welcomed her. A group of women were huddled together in the corner of the room, beside an older goblin, who had fainted. Without warning, the mumbling increased to unthinkable level. Surely the fuss could be heard from outside the kitchens, only to draw more attention. Someone muttered something about informing the King. It was then that Sarah shushed them, her arms flying about frantically. "You must be quiet. Please." She had raised her voice just enough so that she could be heard above the ruckus. They silence immediately. Sarah breathed a sigh of relief – all too early. They began to chatter again. Pleading would do nothing, she simply waited for them to calm. That was when she heard her name being whispered amongst the staff.

"It's Sarah."

"The champion."

"It's true, she's back!"

"Isn't she meant to be dead?"

They voices chorused, rising and falling with each second that passed. Suddenly, they began moving closer to her. Sarah's back straightened, afraid that they would grab her and take her to Jareth. She held up her hands at their awed faces.

"Please, my name is Sarah," she said, "I mean you no harm."

Some of them laughed. A particularly wart-face goblin guffawed and nearly fell off his chair. An all too human looking young women stood forward. "We know who you are, Lady Sarah."

"We could hardly forget you," another one said, piping up.

The girl spoke again, smiling. She was younger than Sarah, maybe not yet twenty. Her hair was pinned back behind a brown rough-looking cap, but she still tried to play with a stray end of hair as she spoke. "You are our Champion," she said, her voice hard from disuse, "how could you ever mean us any harm?"

Sarah was perplexed by the question. And how everyone in his god damn castle knew who she was. "What do you mean?" she asked, brow furrowed.

The girl laughed again, and the people around her smiled. Another worker spoke, "The Champion is here to save us."

The rest of the kitchen staff chimed in, "You can help the King."

"We knew you would come back."

"It was told you would."

"The Champion will save us."

Sarah had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. It was like she had stepped straight into the Twilight Zone – or worse, The Wicker Man. Any moment now, she they would shove a sack of bees on her head and burn her inside an effigy. Jareth would be the first to light the torch, no doubt. However, the kitchen staff seemed friendly enough, if a tad overzealous with their affections. "That's very kind of you," Sarah said, diplomatically, "But I need to leave this place."

Suddenly, their happy faces fell. They looked at her with a mixture of defeated and confused expressions. "Why do you want to leave?" the girl asked, looking remarkably sad.

Sarah felt somewhat guilty; as if she had promised to take a child to Disney land, but let them down two hours before the flight. "I'm sorry," Sarah said, truthfully, "But I don't see how I can help you, any of you, if there is a death warrant over my head."

The chattering began again; the staff mustn't have had a good amount of gossip in a while. Sarah wondered what kind of kingdom Jareth ran, it seems like he didn't give much information away when it came to important matters. Not that Sarah saw her arrival as important. But she thought, that perhaps the goblin staff knew much more than what Jareth thought, or liked.

"Told ya, she should be dead!" one of the servants called, interrupting the fuss, and began prodding the man next to him in the side with his elbow. "Five stratha, wasn't it?" The man groaned and pushed him back, "Why don't you go jump in the bog, Hamish?" he replied peevishly.

"No," Sarah said, "Your friend is right: I should be dead." She saw how the man, Hamish grinned happily to his friend, who groaned again and shuffled in his pockets, pulling out five gold warped coins and handed them to his friend's waiting palm.

The young girl slapped him upside the head. "You gambled on the lady's death?" she said incredulously. The man shrugged, "Not death, Than, just sentence."

Like that made it any better. The girl, Than, pleaded her sincerest apologies for her brother and caught him by the ear so that he would apologise to Lady Sarah. The scruffy man winced in pain and apologised profusely. Sarah stopped them. "Please, that's really not necessary. I need no apology." Sarah said, taking her chance, "But I do need your help, if you will give it?"

A large, rounded women with pink cheeks and flour beaten clothing stood forward, "What do you need of us, my lady?"

Sarah smiled at the woman whom was obviously the cook, "I have barely escaped my fate here, and I know what I am about to ask of you will put your in a bad position with Jar—with your king." Sarah thought that first name basis wouldn't help her in this situation. "I need to leave entirely otherwise I fear I will be executed." Some gasped – perhaps eloquent speeches were Sarah's hidden forte? She continued, "Show me the way into the Labyrinth, and I will be forever grateful."

In the end, not only did they show Sarah the way into the Labyrinth but they speculated on the best route. Hamish had been remarkably helpful, as a palace gardener. He pointed her in the direction that he thought best. The cook, whose name Sarah discovered was Annie (Sarah had been surprised by the mundane nature of it) gave her some cheese, bread and a slice or two of meat in a bundled cloth, so that she might not get hungry on the way back. "I knows the dungeon masters don't feed you lot well," she said as she winked and handed her the cloth. Than too had also provided her with a thread bare cloak 'to cover up her modesty.' However the girl was saddened that she couldn't bring her a finer garment. Sarah told her that the cloak was perfect in his plainness – the perfect disguise. At that, she girl smiled looking down at her shoes. With their goodbyes and their good luck, Sarah left the kitchens and ran out into the Labyrinth in a hurry.

The lack of guards was worrying. Even with Sir Didymus's distraction, there must have been an alert to her escape. Sarah walked through the Labyrinth on the path that Hamish had set, and worried at her lip. Something didn't feel right – it was too easy. With the cloak covering her hair and partially her face, she was barely visible; but she knew that in the great expanse of the Labyrinth, she was all too visible. From what she had gathered from Hamish, the Labyrinth was most in disuse when there was no runner. So, right now, she could be the only one – apart from the tricks and staff – in the Labyrinth. That was disconcerting. Especially now, since no guards were searching for her…

Even if she had the unsettling sensation in the pit of her stomach, the thought of getting out of the Underground kept Sarah going. She didn't want to die here – she didn't want to die, period. And if that meant leaving this wondrous land, then so be it. Jareth might have thought her life meant nothing, but to Sarah it most certainly did. Once she got out of this mess, she was going to take control back of her life. Goblin King free.

Hamish had told Sarah to keep away from the centre of the Labyrinth. There, apparently, it became even more confusing than the 'safe' route he had given her. Sarah couldn't recall if, the last time she was traversing through the Labyrinth, she had reached the direct centre. She was sure that hadn't fully explored it; she had certainly never been in this area before. Most of the Labyrinth looked the same; sandstone walls, vines and cobbles. But this part felt distinctly different. It felt separate – like the differences between the hedge maze and the forest Sarah had encountered last time. It seemed well kept, much like the hedge maze of the Labyrinth. Which meant to Sarah, that she had a long way to go until she reached the beginning of the labyrinth.

She followed a straight path that was lined by green shrubbery, moving into the unknown territory of the Labyrinth. Sarah wasn't sure if this part would have been on Hamish's mental map, but out of sheer curiosity, she wanted to see what lay in front of her. It wasn't like she was being tailed by the guards. Well, at least she didn't _think_ she was. They could be stalking her now, at this very minute. At the thought, Sarah pulled at her hood, ineffectively lowering it further to cover her eyes.

_Curiosity killed the cat…_

Sarah scoffed at her better sense. Yes, indeed. It might have killed the cat – but how could you ever actually prove that? Sarah thought about it, and perhaps the cat had an underling heart condition and what she found was too much for her, and she simply dropped down dead. Who's to say it didn't happen like that?

Still, determined, she carried on. The stones beneath her feet were warm. They felt delicious under her cold soles as they heated them. Sarah relished the feeling of cold and warm, soft and course grazing across her skin. This part of the Labyrinth was warmer it seemed. It opened up more and more as Sarah walked through its pathways. Her skin tingled as a cool breeze flittered through, gazing past her bare legs. There was a taste of sweet wildflowers on the wind. Squinting upwards, Sarah could see that the sun was high in the sky, almost directly above, but it was lowering by the minute. It was past noon that was for sure. Misplaced relief flooded her at the idea that she had bypassed her execution time; which, admittedly was silly, they could still kill her if she was found.

Sarah continued under another hedge canopy and was greeted with the site of a small courtyard and a small bubbling, foaming waterfall. Dewy moss covered most of its rocky surface, apart from a few areas that were perfect for resting. Sarah gazed at the small cascade in utter awe. It seemed to somewhat built into – or craved out of – the large wall behind it. If someone had carved this, then they were indeed an artist. It seemed almost like a natural occurrence, but Sarah knew better than to think anything in this Labyrinth was natural. Coming closer, she could see how the rock face was moulded to fit the shape of some kind of animal's maw; a lion perhaps, or a horse. Sarah squinted. It seemed to change shape as Sarah moved closer towards it, shimmering like the water pouring from its opened mouth. It obviously wasn't a creature of the Upperworld. Whatever it was, it was beautiful. The sculpture transfixed Sarah as she moved towards it, not caring when her toes dipped into the cool water. Sarah hadn't realised how far she had walked into the pool, until she felt the foamy current around her ankles. She expected it to be colder, ice cold even, but it was lukewarm on her skin. Glancing down from the carving, she watched as the water cleaned her dirty, tarred calves clean. A thought popped into her mind as she watched the mud swirl around; _surely a clean-up won't hurt? _It wouldn't take very long, nor would it delay her journey for very long. In fact, Sarah knew she would travel faster if she felt cleaner. With a quick glance at her surroundings, Sarah discarded the cloak around her shoulders, letting it pool on the stones beside her. The water trickled from the carving's mouth and cascaded down into a small pool below, foaming as it collided around her legs. She strode in further, watching as the water splashed and rose higher. The water felt good against her bare legs, soothing. Cupping the water with her hands, she began to bathe her face, legs and scrub at her dirtied knees. Sarah wished she could simply dunk into the pool and be done with it, but her eye wandered back over to the shifting sculpture – this time, it had goblin features – and decided that she shouldn't. Its stony eyes seemed to watch her, calculating her every move. Before, the figure was unthreatening. Now, however, that had changed. There was something in its expression that told Sarah she shouldn't be here.

She had to get out of the water.

Sarah looked down at the foaming water around her; she had gone too far into the pool. Already the water was below her waist. As she waded backwards towards the rocky edge, not daring to turn her back on the stone figure. Perhaps it was a mistake – the water around Sarah turned a sickly green and faded completely into black. The foaming of the waterfall had been peaceful at first, but now it seemed to roar. It was foaming rapidly. New dark waves formed in the pool around her, swirling and thrashing against her body, threatening to take her under complete. With her heart hammering and her limbs numbing, Sarah splashed through the wading water with as much speed as she could muster. Just as her cold hand gripped onto the slimy rocks, the water stilled. She stopped. Breath tickled the back of her damp head, rough and nasally. Sarah choked out a small, frightened sound as she felt a heavy presence behind her. Slowly, she turned her head to face the beast. With the corner of her eye she could see its dark, sleek fur, flowing moss covered mane and, most importantly, its yellowy eyes which were staring right into the whites of her own.

It didn't move. Just breathed in and out and stared at Sarah's own perplexed face. Smoothly, Sarah turned so her body faced the creature, not her back and she gently pulled herself up onto the rocks behind. She placed her hand out to the statuesque creature, trying to show that she meant no harm, and spoke calmly to it. "There, there, horsey, it's okay," she said, not really knowing if the creature hovering over her was indeed a horse. Its body was shifting and changing, as if someone had put it on fast-forward. The only recognisable creature Sarah could pick out, was a horse form, perhaps even dog. Whatever it was, the creature was huge. And it was standing in the waters where Sarah had been only minutes before. Sarah had at least expected it to attack; the feeling in the water before was not welcoming. In fact, it felt protective, guarded and thoroughly pissed off. But, now, the creature before her seemed settled. Its large head tilted to one side and its eyes peered at her – an all too human gesture for something so decidedly unhuman – as if it was appraising her. Testing her. Then, unexpectedly, it leaned forward making Sarah jump slightly. She was about to recoil, but forced herself not to – she sensed it would not like that. It sniffed her twice, and breathed heavily on her face as if harrumphing. Then, it simply nodded it head, shaking it a few times until one loose hair fell into Sarah's wet lap. It was unlike any hair Sarah had seen before. It was short and think, and hard to the touch. If it wasn't for the semi-light weight of it, she would have thought the creature had placed a shard of lead in her lap. The creature harrumphed again, dipping its head up and down presumably at the hair. Sarah was utterly confused, but with a shaky hand she picked up the hair. It harrumphed again, almost excitedly. Its head thrashed around, sprinkling water everywhere in every direction.

Sarah looked down at the hair; perhaps it was an offering of peace. "Thank you," Sarah said as she tucked the lead hair into the folds of her newly acquired cloak. She turned back to the creature, only for its eyes to be inches away from her face. Sarah gasped at the closeness. Its eyes blazed with a golden light blinding her like headlights; unfamiliar sounds echoed painfully through her mind. She grasped the hair at her temples and screamed. Muddled noised pieced her again and again. Her skull ached and throbbed, feeling like someone was slowly tearing it apart. Sarah wasn't sure what was happening but the pain in her head flittered around blurry images – castle, creature, water, drowning, war, and ultimately Jareth. She heard the screams, she could smell the stench of death in the air. Once again, she was taken to that ransacked castle and those two oh-so familiar figures reaching out to one another.

"_It will happen, Sarah Williams, but only if you choose it." _


End file.
